Their Fated Travels
by Robert James Freemantle
Summary: A group of misfits who no one else would want, band together in a party and set out on adventure into the unknown. However, fate is perhaps the controlling basis for their meeting and their conclusion...  Inspired from games of Warhammer RPG.
1. Chapter 1

**Their Fated Travels...**

Chapter One

The Two Headed Goose

Murder was in the air…

The year was 2522 IC (Imperial Calendar). It had been a beautiful day. The setting sun was disappearing over the oddly mis-matched rooftops of the houses around the docks district of Altdorf, capital city of the Empire.

A place where three great inland rivers met, home to the palace residence of Emperor Karl Franz himself, home to the great church of Sigmar that sat just across the street from the palace, residence of the colleges of magic, the city of countless varied guilds and home to thousands of ideas of human ingenuity, be it for the good or ill of mankind. Such were the way with the greatest of ideas and best of intentions.

This was the city that shone the brightest, like a glowing supernova in the galaxy of mankind, but that which did burn brightest did also cast the longest shadows…

An inn sign gently swung, creaking on its rusting chains from the docks breeze. The image upon it – a two headed goose, depicting the name of the establishment – was a strange sight to see in a city that took any sort of mutation seriously.

The rain began to fall, heavy and sudden, dripping off of the sign immediately tapping the ground below like a well rehearsed drum beat from years of practice. The steps below it attested to that, with a worn water stain in them.

Just below the sign, the door burst open. A Marienburg man whose richly woven and colourful clothing looked a little ill fitting on his skinny frame came out of the inn with a wench on each arm. Their width three wide at the already narrow doorway blocked entry to a gentile looking woman attempting to step up to the door. The man looked drunken and red faced and examined the woman before him. He hadn't seen many like her around these parts. She was dressed in white, all over, except for some red trim here and there and remained hooded, long before the rain even fell. She wore glasses. Beyond all of that though from what he could see, he reckoned her to be quite attractive but not quite his type anyway. The ladies with him were both dark skinned, a clear indication that they hailed from a foreign land far far from the Empire. One looked much older than the other, perhaps it was her mother, thought the woman in white and then shook off any further thought on the matter. She was nervous just having to be present in this quarter of the city and now she was being delayed access to the inn, a place she would never willingly enter of her own volition.

The man stood swaying on his feet wondering what to do next and the woman in white tried to step to the left, bringing her white metallic staff close to her to allow the three to proceed down the steps. They too had shifted left though. Then the woman stepped to the right, as did the group. This was getting them nowhere, she thought.

"Please" she started, "I have been called on an urgent errand I need to enter".

The man looked at her quizzically rubbing his stubbly chin and swayed a little again.

The woman touched her staff to the man's forehead and concentrated. He was too inebriated to care. She closed her eyes and seemed to expend a great deal of power in a short amount of time, channelling it through her staff and into the man. He smiled at the tingling sensation through his body which began to glow a little. Suddenly his face changed to one of cognitive realisation once more. Somehow the strange robed woman had brought him to his senses, sobering him.

The man looked at her in surprise as if seeing her for the first time in his life, then at the women on his arms. He especially regarded the older one with some surprise, turned them all around and stepped back in through the inn with them. He had decided he would need more drink first.

Just before the door closed behind them Rissandrea caught a glimpse of the smoky interior and mixed classes of patrons inside, none of which looked savoury enough for the likes of her to mix with. She had a duty to enter though, as an initiate of the Shallyan order, she had been commanded to visit the inn on business deemed too low for the priestesses to attend to. She knew that her presence here meant that greater good was being done elsewhere, a worthwhile sacrifice she thought.

She realised that her staff had pushed into the door at the bottom, stopping it from closing. She had unconsciously stopped it from doing so, perhaps fearing that if it closed this time she would not bring herself to open it. Already she was blushing, unused to such surroundings as these and the embarrassment of interaction with drunken locals already. Rissandrea Elquina-Vhor took a deep breath in, preparing herself to go inside. Once she'd opened the door she considered not breathing out at all. Quickly she made her way to the barkeep trying to ignore the eyes and mouthed comments of nearly every occupant present.

A little later that evening, the bar area of the inn had filled up considerably. The rain had driven more customers inside to ready themselves with a drink or five before braving the storm in a walk home.

Some patrons were here to enjoy the company of human interaction, to unwind and find a bed for the night. The table nearest the bar saw an inebriated man playing a card game with a ruddy cheeked Halfling, dirt smeared upon his face. The human man's build was large, and his sword and garb suggested a knight in training, perhaps a squire, wearing the colours of the white wolf of Ulric.

A shady figure was sitting in a corner keeping an eye on everything that happened in the bar area. He sat and watched the door open as someone in particular left but still he did not move from his secretive spot. He had somehow extinguished the candle above him and as such he didn't have to make much effort to remain concealed in the shadows that now surrounded his table. Two glasses of red wine sat in front of him. The one nearest him was still full. The furthest glass positioned in a place as if someone had been sitting opposite him had been drunk down to its dregs.

Within moments the inn door opened once more. This time it remained open but no one came in. Some of the customers nearby moved their heads over to see who it might be in the doorway behaving in such an unexpected manner.

There stood two men. One was a muscular bearded broadly built Kislevite, six foot five inches tall and the hat of a kossar that looked as if it had never been washed upon his head. He carried with him a kislevite hunting bow, a scimitar and a shield. He was lightly armoured but looked hardy enough to not need any armour at all. His features were chiselled and grim like that of a heavy mountainside on a stormy day. It just so happened that the weather around him added to the effect right now.

The other man with him was very different indeed. He was of average height, wore the fine garb of a noble house and carried an air of authority naturally about him. He wore a pair of bizarre looking spectacles, bizarre in that their ear supports were super reinforced with a rubber like material for stability. The right hand lens socket was built up off of the frame with a screw shape inlaid pattern going around the metal on the inside. He carried a simple looking wooden quarterstaff with him, a backpack and a sack he carried over his shoulder. He too had somewhat of a beard and moustache, but it was much wilder and uncontrolled in its grooming than that of the larger man's. He was greying in places but was only twenty-eight years old.

Both men stood there in the doorway with the sign rain droplets plopping down onto the smaller man's forehead making the watery beat take on a new tone. He seemed blissfully unaware, with a big smile upon his face as he looked up at the sign above his head and started, "Gosh I say Tordrad, look at the sign of this establishment too, it reminds me of something I saw in my youth…"

Still, rain water splashed off of the man's face and ran to the ground below as the larger of the two men rolled his eyes and looked up and away as if in protest at how silly the smaller man was.

"Well that decides it then. One last night in the city shall be spent here." said the smaller man, and immediately began marching into the inn, swinging his arms in a pronounced manner with every step.

The larger man, Tordrad was now very slowly walking in but his concentration was on looking up at the sign.

"Come on my good man" came the smaller man again, not even looking around before adding out loud to no one in particular, "perhaps the barkeep will have some darts, I could use the practice…"

The finely dressed man stood near to the bar waiting to be served. As he did so, he looked around at his surroundings and sniffed the water out of the nostrils of his large nose as he wiggled it this way and that. He raised a finger to the barkeep but was unnoticed in the crowd. "I say, my man, we would order some drinks perchance?" Still nothing.

The Kislevite, Tordrad finally caught up with him and pushed through the crowd, parting them like they were corn in a field. He held up two fingers and said "Vodka" in a strained Reikspiel attempt. It was clear that the Empire's language did not come easy to him at all.

The noble like man rushed forwards quickly and said, "oh not for me Tordrad, I'm not drinking that again."

The Kislevite replied with eyes beginning to look at the ceiling, "I know, that is why I only ordered two". The only problem was, Tordrad could only speak Kislevite and so his reply did not get through to the smaller man. However, he had gestured those same two fingers at his own chest as he said it and that was enough for the barman to understand. With that the barman placed the whole bottle of vodka on the bar before Tordrad. A big grin appeared on his face. This was his kind of bar!

"Well, jolly good then" said the smaller man as he settled up upon a bar stool next to Tordrad. "And I would partake of a glass of milk barkeep". Some of the nearby men scowled at him. It wasn't just his drinks order or his clothing, there was something about his voice, in its refinement yet high pitched eccentric tone that would grate at some people after long enough exposure to it.

Some of the men here tonight had arrived in the city for the first time earlier today. The smaller well dressed man though had lived in this city all of his life and tonight might well be the last time he'd ever see it, he felt. Fate had a strange way of dealing with Maestro Rophel Illefescion. It was as if it had a plan for him but it always meant him doing the opposite of what he truly wanted to do. He'd given up so much just to get to this point and now he was about to give up his whole world, as he saw it, all to keep the higher powers happy…why were they so worried about him anyway? He wondered. He had no idea, because like with so many things around him he was oblivious, living in a little world of his own. He had never truly lived.

As he sat on the bar next to Tordrad, he considered that he was perhaps the joke of fate itself, with it even conspiring with the Emperor to expel him from the city, his city, from his home and his comforts. He shook off those uncomfortable thoughts and spoke to the barman.

"My good man, I must confess, the reason I am here now is the name of your establishment being such."

The Barman feigned interest at what he perceived to be an upcoming conversation he'd had thousands of times already and replied, "Ahh, you're curious about how it got that name?"

Tordrad was shaking his head and looking down at the bar as if embarrassed by Maestro.

"Well yes" came the fine clothed individual, "in my younger years I once saw a two-headed goose, or I thought it was at least…turned out to be one goose standing in front of the other…heh heh…in the end."

While Tordrad couldn't speak Reikspiel, he had an uncanny knack of understanding roughly what Maestro was saying. This was clear as his face was now in his palm.

The barman was pouring another drink of vodka into Tordrad's glass and answered, "The day we opened we got a two headed goose in for the cookin' pot. More meat for the same price, I thought it was a lucky sign."

Maestro nodded as if impressed.

Tordrad downed his freshly poured glass of vodka, snatching it up as soon as the barman had finished pouring and said quietly in Kislevite, "They're both idiots really."

Maestro smiled at Tordrad and quickly replied with an enthusiasm that didn't match his companion's, "Yes I agree Tordrad, it definitely does sound fortuitous."

A little while later, the bar had become smokier still. Maestro was stood at the oche playing darts on his own. Tordrad was at the bar singing a song in Kislevite, getting everyone else to join in mumbling a parody of the words in drunken content.

The shady figure remained there still, the wine had not been touched and the bottle nearby was as full as it had been. The bar wenches seemed to naturally stay clear of his table, seemingly without realising they were doing it. It was as if it didn't even exist.

The white robed and hooded woman finally emerged from upstairs where she had promptly gone soon after arriving after she'd talked to the barman. She had a mask tied across her face, the like of which would be seen worn by the Priests who visited the plagued to offer some comfort. Those present in the bar had seen her come downstairs in that attire with prayer book in hand and in concern most of them rose to leave. A Priestess or at least an initiate of Shallya was not hard to recognise.

As she reached the ground floor she pulled the mask off and everyone relaxed a little but that still didn't stop them leaving the bar. It was soon 80% cleared of patrons. Those who remained were either too drunk, oblivious or set about their own tasks for the night that they would not be uprooted by the threat of plague.

She had been called in tonight when a patron refused to leave his room after his money to pay for board had run out, claiming he had contracted plague. It was true that he had become covered in spots and redness but it was also possible that this man was trying to stay at the inn for free. The order of Shallya had been contacted to find the truth in the man's words. That is how she had arrived here.

The barman asked readily, "So? Is he pulling a fast one miss?"

Rissandrea considered the man's words for a moment and then put him out of his misery, "He is sickening, the man you speak of, but it is not plague." With that the barman sighed a relief as Rissandrea continued, "he has the effects of an allergic reaction about him."

Suddenly the barman became hard faced, "Yeah, an allergy to paying his bills more like."

Rissandrea ignored the anger in his voice and continued, "He must have inhaled or consumed something that does not agree with him. Either way, I have advised that his best route of recovery is away from here. He is getting ready to leave now.

"Hah" came the barman's cynical narrow minded response, "He probably knew he was allergic to a bit of chicken or the like and snuck some in here to eat after booking a room."

Rissandrea sighed, "That would be unlikely. He has been very ill, this man. I have given him salves for his skin rashes and prayed from the holy scripture."

Rissandrea turned to leave as the barman held up the piece of paper with the man's bill on it, "This is the only scripture that is holy to me miss and I mean to see it fulfilled."

The woman pushed her glasses gently back onto her nose with her back turned to the bar now and asked, "I trust you will settle the matter of your donation in payment to the church before tonight?"

The barman was about to kick up a ruckus about the loss of more funds and then thought better of it. This woman was essentially a good person. "Aye" he said, "twelve chickens ready for stuffing, they'll be plucked when you get them."

Rissandrea nodded gently and began to walk away. The barman left his post and walked upstairs, leaving a wench to serve for him. Before the Shallyan initiate could leave, a man sitting beside the door grabbed her forcibly by the wrist. He was clearly drunk, the offensive smell of his liquor fumed up at the woman and she pulled the hood across her face a little more with her free hand.

"Heyyy gorgeous *hic* how about a bloody good drink on me? On my tab and on my lap, hahacsh"

Rissandrea looked at the man with utter contempt, "I do not drink."

The man didn't let go, he pulled on her arm to yank her over to him and suggested, "and what about a place on my lap for the evenin'? *hic*"

Rissandrea took her hood down, getting hot and clearly angered in her deep dark brown eyes, behind her black framed glasses. This effect seemed to only make the man more excited, as he saw her fresh smelling chestnut coloured hair sensibly tied up in a bun. She looked so fresh she could almost be a virgin, he fancied internally to himself.

"I do not spend…time with men either".

"Aww rubbish, what sort of wench doesn't lay with a man, espesh *hic* espeshully one as grand a man as I…be *hic*."

"I am not a serving wench. I am an initiate of Shallya, a devout of the Vhor sub-sect, who do not drink or partake of emotional comforts whatsoever. I have never known love, nor will I. Now will you let me go or is this going to become a problem?"

The man smiled with an awareness suddenly about him, through his drunken state, "ahh so you're a dyke then. I'm not choosey, I'll buy you a drink if you'll let me watch your girly-friend lover and you." The man smiled pathetically, showing a set of partly broken and chipped teeth, "you know, doin' the baaad thing."

Rissandrea had no idea what the man was going on about.

Tordrad was looking across with concern on his face. Already he had stepped down from the bar stool and began a walk over to the scene at the door but was beaten to it by a grizzled looking sailor, with a cigarette that he seemed for all appearances to keep in his mouth so often that the dry skin of his lips made the permanent dent for it that was now there.

He grabbed the arm that held Rissandrea, "This girl said no to you Guvnor."

With that the man rose from his chair and pushed the sailor's arm back off him, freeing the lady in the process. Now it was confirmed in her own mind here, the evidence of why she didn't venture to such places, especially alone, and all to try and do some good, she thought ironically. With her hood up and glasses on she had looked much older, but now the reality was clear, she was barely in her twenties.

The sailor put two fists up in a fighting stance and continued, "the girl has already told you she isn't interested, 'n' if your ears need more, I've two willing fists for 'em."

The drunk man looked down at the lady, trying to catch a bit of leg on display and realised that he could see none, perhaps it was the robe that was covering those nice legs up like that, what a shame, but then why was she in robes if she was a bar wench?"

"How is this goin' to play out then friend? Your choice."

The sailor's words shot through into the man's skull and made him retreat backwards until the rear of his foot hit the door. At this guiding aid of self awareness of his placement, he turned swiftly around and left through the door with a forward stumble.

The sailor made to leave too. Rissandrea stopped him with a word, "wait."

The salty sea dog looked around at her, smiling as she made her point, "Don't follow him and continue this fight, It's not worth it. Let him go home and sober up. I'm sure he'll regret it."

A hardy laugh left the sailor's belly, "oh no lass you don't understand do you? That man is my best friend; I'm going to see that he gets home alright".

"But, I don't understand…"

"Hah, well it's like this miss" he explained, "I'm sober and he's drunk, but when it's the other way around I'm acting like he was here and he like me. It's how we look after each other when we're too deep in it, so to speak. Accostin' a Shallyan holy type, now that's pretty deep right there. Course, bein' the hero to some girl has its advantages too sometimes, eh?" and with that he winked at her.

Rissandrea crossed her arms angrily, "You both disgust me!"

The sailor laughed heartily as he left the bar, stepping outside into the pouring rain.

Tordrad looked across with a mixed stare of relief and disappointment. On one hand he would have enjoyed a good bar fight, but he was also glad that it now wasn't going to interrupt his drinking.

Maestro threw a dart which missed the board and fell short, sticking into the wall underneath it.

Tordrad's good time was spoilt at seeing this thinking to himself, perhaps I should get you a bow to fire them with. He liked his own joke and that put him back into a good mood again. With drink in hand he soon forgot about the debt he owed the small Altdorf man for some while to come, soon they were to depart for the road for who knows how long and he was determined to make this a night to ease that pain, in his mind he hoped that one night would stretch to do it. He was wrong. He knew that deep down.

The shadowy figure that had been sitting in the corner was nowhere to be seen. The candle was lit once more, as if it had never been out and the glass of wine was tipped over on its side, its contents running out across the table with red drips of it splashing to the floor beginning to puddle.

Suddenly the strange figure was at the back area that led out to the kitchen. He whispered something into a serving wench's ear and she froze to the spot to let him past her with her train of thought interrupted at, "sorry sir but customers can't go out that w…"

For some time the serving wench stood there with wide open eyes, zoned out of reality somehow, seemingly unable to move from the spot. Eventually she came to her senses, prodded by the chef, the barman's wife who was trying to get past her. She came to as if nothing had even happened and continued about her business. During these minutes of darkness outside, a dark figure had emerged into the back alley behind the inn and moved swiftly down it towards a wooden fence that was blocking access to this private alley.

A locked door barred the way, but the figure did not care. He waited confidently as a wagon pulled up and parked on the other side of the fence then he climbed onto a box, jumped onto another and leaped with almost supernatural dexterity onto a third stacked yet higher than the rest. He grabbed the top of the fence and pulled himself deftly down onto the wagon which he then calmly left, down the passenger side. Authority showed in his walk as if he owned it. When he was clear of the vehicle he quickly moved towards another alleyway and was out of sight. Very few people were around because of the downpour of rain, but any who were, were too concerned with getting soaked through to notice the strange way the rain shimmered around the figure's body as he moved.

As the sun rose once more, the rain began to settle down, as if it had finished its working shift to be replaced by daylight across the city. It was a particularly refreshing heartening day, enough to uplift the spirits of every citizen in the great city of Altdorf, all except for one that is, the man who was trudging menacingly along the cobbled streets of the docks quarter. His tall boots creaked as he walked, their straps were tightened in place and the buckles were polished immaculately. He wore a uniform that made the people around him gasp in astonishment at his approach and then quickly move out of his way. His sword and pistol were visible to all, holstered quite plainly in sight, perhaps as a warning. He was a tall man, seemingly taller than anyone else on the streets that morning. That or perhaps everyone else felt smaller compared to him. The wide brimmed tall hat he wore helped extend his menacing height further still. Even animals knew to stay away from him.

Malvanius Witch hunter Captain for the Emperor's city of Altdorf was a man who got results, no-matter what the cost may be. He was a believer in the old Witch hunter creed that punishing ten innocents was far better than letting one guilty man go free. His face seemed to be in a permanent sneer. This was due to a facial muscle injury he had incurred some years ago when he was a soldier fighting the orcs and goblins in the Emperor's armies. A rampaging orc big boss had brought him close to the Gates of Morr when it sliced deeply into his face that fateful day. His jaw bone had been righteous enough to allow him to clamp his teeth down on the weapon locking it in place long enough for his pole arm to sever the green beast's belly open, spilling its insides across the ground. Even then it didn't realise how dead it should be and made to finish him off with his bare fists. Even when the brute died after Malvanius had taken a further beating from the monster, its body fell dead towards him seeking to finish him, seeking to push the blade all the way through his face and out the other side, seeking to test his resolve and more importantly his faith. Somehow he had reached his feet up in time and supported the weight of the dead brute long enough for another man in his company to pull it off of him. A great ally that man was, some years later he caught up with him, and had been forced to put him to death for chaotic stigmata upon his skin, he admitted, his Swordmaster Captain had been a great man. That is why he made his execution swift and on the spot. He executed him without even delivering the sentence.

Last night Malvanius had been summoned from his bed chamber to attend the site of a terrible crime. His division of men were already hard at work interrogating and seeking clues but it was the nature of this crime that had called for Malvanius's presence more than anything. The last drops of rain hung from the end of his bent nose, as if clinging on to remain in existence for just a little while longer now the rain had stopped. The man came to a halt and brought out an embroidered handkerchief with which he proceeded to blow his nose upon. In one corner were the markings of his family crest and that of the Emperor in the opposite corner.

The place he had stopped had brought his foot to rest upon a cigarette butt. He picked it up and smelled it suspiciously, putting it away in his long jacket. He had stopped at a particular inn. His eyes rose up to read the hanging sign. "The Two-headed Goose! What blasphemy of creation? What chaotic mutant is this? It all makes sense now." He promptly walked into the bar area and made sure to not remove his hat. His long flowing cloak was wet and he troubled himself enough to take it off and shake it across the bar floor. Those present stared in horror, absolute abject terror at seeing a Witch hunter in the same room as them. It wouldn't matter that it was a public place, Witch hunters had the ability to decide upon law immediately, they were a law unto themselves and worse still this one was the Captain of their zealous lot. One man lost his nerve at this and edged around Malvanius by the longest route he could find, then when he reached the door he bolted straight outside. Malvanius hadn't blinked an eye. Others looked hopeful as if they too could get away with this action. Suddenly the man re-appeared again, walking backwards through the door with a sword pointed at his throat held up with a threatening certainty by one of Malvanius's Witch hunters.

Malvanius finally took the time out of his busy day to look at the scared man, "You're bone dry and you arrived here only an hour ago, you had no reason to run from me, fool."

The man's eyes widened first with surprise and then hope took over. He asked, "Does…does that mean I can go now…Sir?" He coughed to cover up the wavering in his voice at the end of the sentance.

Malvanius smiled at the man. It was an unnerving sight, even though the smile was an attempt at being pleasant, the man's facial deformity made anything like that seem sinister. Of course it was sinister anyway for a pleasant thought to him was unpleasant for anyone else. "You have not committed this crime." Malvanius seemed to study him a lot more closely all of a sudden and continued, "but the fact that you were trying to run away meant that you judge yourself unworthy of being in my presence, unworthy of being innocent."

"I haven't done anything Sir, I was just scared that's all, I promise that's all."

Malvanius laughed, "Scared? You don't know the meaning of the word", as the other witch hunter began to bind the man's hands together behind his back with rope, "The place that you're being taken to will teach you what fear is. There's something I don't like about you. You may not be guilty of a crime yet but I want to find out what it is that lies deep inside you, that is worried it might commit some foul deed in the near future. Get him out of my sight". With that, the man was promptly gagged and hooded then removed from the inn and taken straight to a waiting coach outside which hastily rode off. The others in the bar looked even more nervous, not wanting to speak out of turn here, not wanting to speak at all! Tordrad was already sitting downstairs nursing a hangover and watching proceedings evolve in front of him. The soldier in him made him keep short hours aside for sleep. He stood out as different here, being a foreigner, this could get ugly he thought, especially as he could not speak Reikspiel.

Malvanius had looked at everyone once, but had not looked at anyone else twice, yet. The imposing figure of a man moved across to the bar and stood waiting expectantly before the barman. "Well?" he asked eventually, tired of waiting. The barman seemed scared and confused and answered, "You want a drink?"

At this moment it occurred to Tordrad that the barman looked a bit like a dwarf. He was clearly human, that much was obvious from his six feet of height but he seemed to remind Tordrad of an overgrown dwarf.

"A drink?" came the Witch hunter's reply, "You seek to pervert the course of justice by plying my good mind with the devil's lament? What do you have to hide?"

"Nothing…sir," came the barkeep's reply, "you just seemed to want something, so naturally I assumed…this being a bar."

"This is no bar" the Witch hunter replied. "This is a den of dark desires and sin. Not only that, but you have the gall to display it in plain sight for all the good people of the city to see. You disgust me."

The barman thought about this for a moment and plucked up the courage to speak, "I'm sorry you don't approve of the name Sir, I'm happy to change it if that is your wish, but I'm also ready to help you in whatever investigation you're involved in."

"I was waiting for you to tell me about the murder. What do you know of it?"

"Murder? I don't know nothing of any murder, when?"

"I was hoping you could tell me…tell me anything you can and I'll be out of your way and on to someone else."

The barman knew that this was a possibility for an easy way out. He had no idea about a murder but the potential for escape from its coming interrogation was an attractive proposition. However, if he made something up he knew he'd be lying. It was never a good idea to lie to the Witch hunters, in any situation, his grandpa had taught him. Those were his dying words when a Witch hunter put a sword through him all those years ago funnily enough. The barman stuck to his guns and didn't lie. He answered, "I honestly know nothing of a new murder round 'ere."

The Witch hunter nodded in some satisfaction at this. He had baited a trap for the man. No one inside the building should know of the murders yet and if this oaf had taken the easy way out he would have been admitting to being in on it. "I still don't like you, you'll still need investigating but I sense the truth in you at least. That means that whatever other sick thing you're hiding, will be found out all the faster while we look in the right direction."

The room was beginning to fill up with a squad of Witch hunters. They wore the common city colours of the Altdorf order's watch, but Malvanius's garb was a mix of the usual dark tones along with bits of blue coloured lining and trimmings. Then of course there was the rank insignia he wore upon the chest of his long leather jacket. Finally there was the blue band he wore around his hat.

One of the Witch hunters that entered had the white robed woman from last night held firmly between his two hands. Malvanius looked around with a disturbingly pleased look upon his face. His subordinate let the woman go with the slightest almost unperceivable nod of their leader's head.

Rissandrea rubbed her arms where she'd been roughly "escorted" here, dragged out of her bed in the middle of the night. Her hair was not in a bun like before, but down and in a dishevelled mess. Tordrad privately thought to himself how disgusting this treatment was but he was not shocked by it. His home land of Kislev also had Witch hunters in. It was a small blessing that he didn't understand most of what the tall one, their leader was saying to the poor girl now or he might have lost his calm and freed her forcefully. It was at that moment that Maestro came downstairs eating an apple. He saw the crowd of worried patrons faces and said in a friendly manner, "oh gosh, is there some fun to be had this morning?"

Malvanius's eyes narrowed as he looked upon the man. He looked deep into his eyes even from such a distance away as he was and perceived something about them. They were grey, but in their outline was a ring of purple - Most unusual for a normal noble dressed as he obviously was…for anyone in fact. He considered the possibility of stigmata and pondered upon it internally while outwardly he maintained his presence to the newcomer, "Is it tainted?" was all he asked the newcomer.

Maestro was chewing quite a mouthful of apple in his mouth, and held up the fruit in his hand, "I hope not, I've eaten half of it already, I didn't see any maggots."

"Not the apple you imbecile, the path you walk that brings you into my gaze."

"The…stairwell?" Maestro began nervously looking at the stairs he stood upon incase of wood worm."

Malvanius saw that this was genuine and began to get a little flustered. He quickly calmed himself. It had been a while since someone had got to him like this.

Tordrad's palm was already over his face. As Maestro's bodyguard it was his duty to protect the man no-matter what happened. He didn't fancy the man's silly manner getting him killed from being pulled into an un-winnable fight before they'd even set off on their trip.

The Witch hunter would often attempt to give people the merest suggestion of a question and let them fill the rest of the gaps for him, usually out of nervousness. It was a technique that normally worked on the general populace but not on these fools. He took a long look at the Kislevite but before he could speak he was interrupted by Maestro from behind, "Excuse me, umm yes, he's with me. He's my bodyguard yes."

Malvanius didn't turn around, he simply asked, "What concern is that of yours for what I wish to say to him? You don't speak for him do you?"

Maestro replied instantly, with the chirpy spirit of a student even though his age didn't fit the temperament, "Well no, nobody does, he can't speak a word of Reikspiel."

Malvanius felt his eye twitch. That was a bad sign. The situation was beginning to irritate him, to effect his pragmatic investigative mind. He uttered to himself a saying in the long dead classical tongue of the Empire, "Even the greatest king shall be brought asunder by the weakness of his public."

Maestro took another crunch of the apple, his long hair was lank and untreated, his beard was covered in apple pieces, "Ahh yes, a fellow scholar, 'tis by Markus Tveid is it not?"

Malvanius raised an eyebrow, or raised nearly the whole eye socket at this man's understanding of the finer language of the past. "Yes" he conceded, "you are indeed knowledgeable but how corrupt has that knowledge made you so far?"

Maestro beamed at the man happily and produced a piece of paper that the taller of the men could read even the fine print upon from where he was standing, his eagle eyes and thick eyebrows also suggested as such.

Maestro still replied because he didn't know of the man's skill at far reading, "Not that corrupt so far, I'm still only an Apprentice Wizard."

With that the whole room gasped, including the barman. He dared to say "A wizard under my roof and I had no idea!"

"Not much of one yet!" Maestro argued, as if putting himself down was a good thing in this case.

Malvanius knew that this more than likely explained the man's strange eyes. It meant he would be the bloodline of a powerful mage before him. He now had the guestbook in his hands and was regarding it like a school teacher in the middle of calling the morning registry for those students present or absent, "And what is your name, Wizard?" the final word had quite an aggressive bite on it. Maestro realised he'd given the man something else to hate him for.

"I am Maestro Rophel Illefescion in the flesh!" replied the wizard with a naturally occurring dramatic flair in his delivery.

The Witch hunter decided to throw a weak threat out there, "Well Apprentice Wizard, if I do not discover what I want to hear from you, I might yet interrogate you without the flesh."

Even Maestro went quiet at that.

Malvanius looked content at last. "Some of you have already been interrogated, others we have discovered alibis for already, but this group of you here" he gestured to those he'd recently spoken to "you will come with me now - except for you innkeeper. Your wife testified to your whereabouts last night, but that's more of her investigation..." This seemed to amuse Malvanius somehow but made the other man's shoulders slump.

Rissandrea looked angry again, angry and tired. She had been interrogated in the jails for a few hours and dragged back here to the site where she was attacked last night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Their Fated Travels…**

Chapter Two

The Scene of Murder (Seen and Unseen)

Malvanius led them outside - Maestro, Tordrad and Rissandrea. They were expecting to see a coach there ready to take them away to the city jail, but no such thing happened. They were led across the mismatching cobbled street with a squad of witch hunters in tow, to an alleyway two roads away from the inn.

Upon reaching the murder scene, Tordrad's jaw firmed up and his eyes took on a look of wild shock and anger.

Rissandrea looked at the two mutilated bodies and assorted macabre paraphernalia about them, with a look of sympathy draining the last of her high spirits away. Even though they were dead, she guessed what they must have suffered, what they still were suffering! - judging by the symbols present!

Maestro dropped the last of his apple and the piece already in his mouth stuck out where he couldn't bring himself to chew any longer.

The witch hunter captain had been studying their faces for a sign of anything that could incriminate them, any sign that this scene was not a new image to them. He found nothing suspicious but remained silent anyway.

Malvanius started, "Two bodies, these men knew each other. They were in the inn with you all last night. This one with his insides spread across the wall in a pattern, he was seen mistreating you last night, Miss Vhor."

Rissandrea nodded sadly.

"The other, a sailor was present and also had a discussion with you, Miss Vhor. That makes you a dangerous woman to be having words with."

The woman held her tongue in place, as she did not like the feel of the words that were trying to come out at that moment. They were not befitting of a lady and especially not of one who sought to become a Shallyan Priestess.

The witch hunter asked, "When they left, you were angry at them weren't you?"

Rissandrea nodded, "Of course I was! They are…were both beyond belief. I would remind you that those of my order maintain an oath to aid the sick and dying not add to them."

Malvanius laughed coldly and for longer than seemed appropriate, "Corruption is everywhere, you're too young and naive to realise this and that makes you a danger in itself."

The weight of the arrests he'd made in the past were there in the back of his tone. People in the highest seats of superiority had come under his watchful eye and been judged as criminals. He wore his cynicism on his sleeve for all to see, but only if you were perceptive enough to realise it. Rissandrea was.

Maestro remained silent. Tordrad was less upset by the gore, for he had seen it all before on the battlefields of Kislev. He was more shaken up by the chaos imagery drawn across the walls in the blood and entrails of these two men. They were severely mutilated. Someone who was truly evil had to be responsible for this, he was sure.

Just at that moment, a small man around five feet three inches tall joined them in the alleyway. The witch hunters were about to pounce on him but Malvanius waved him to come closer.

The man had an awkward build – thin, too thin even for his height and somewhat stooped in his resting stance. This didn't show in his walk however. He moved along on a walking staff, the like of which would be carried by men when they went into the hill pathways or simply if they were becoming less steady on their feet. He did certainly seem to rest his weight into the staff as if he needed it.

The new man looked at the bodies and nodded his head. Malvanius asked, "Refreshed from last night I assume?"

"Perfectly, thank you" came the man's reply. His voice sounded educated. Those who were gathered outside could see that they were in the company of an academic.

Earlier that night, shortly after Malvanius had found the bodies; he had looked up and to the left where his eye had caught the bright lantern light shining through the window of the house at the end of the alley. Its light naturally illuminated part of the outside surroundings including a portion of the alleyway.

A decisive smile had crept across his face as he made his way towards the house. He'd given a secret hand sign to another witch hunter standing nearby. This second man had sprung away immediately down the side alley of the house.

Three sharp knocks were answered by am irritated voice calling "Wait a minute!"

Soon the door was answered by a short man. His curled black hair could not be seen under his surgeon's hat. His face was rough, as if suited to a less refined class, yet he dwelled in an expensive house. Mental notes were being made.

Malvanius stared at the man standing at the door and enquired, "Do you know what has happened out here tonight?" his eyes darting just past the man and into his hallway beyond to look for anything of interest on display.

"No, I've been too busy working on this cadaver" came the reply from the man. Malvanius almost fell over backwards. How blatant a confession! But then he realised the man had been gesturing to the inside of his house. "Come, you can see if you wish." He'd added.

He led a silently shocked Malvanius through into the front room containing the bright lantern that had caught his attention so readily before. He could tell that the room and indeed the house belonged to a physician, but based on the furniture and art pieces, one of considerable years beyond this man's - who he estimated to be around 27 years old.

The man gestured to a work slab that had a corpse upon it. It had been cut open and its insides were being removed and stored in large brine filled medical jars.

Everything had been done professionally, methodically, medically Malvanius noticed. The proper tools that one would use he observed, were upon a nearby metal tray atop a small trolley.

The man seemed to read the witch hunter's mind and stated, "This is one Mrs Jareyn. She died of an overdose, so they say. My teacher has assigned me the task of finding the truth in the matter, as part of my medical study."

Malvanius's quick eyes surveyed the paper lying on the desk, with its official death certificate wax seal upon it and quickly got back to summing up the character of the man standing before him.

"I see," Malvanius said, "so you have been in all evening?"

"I have been working here all through the night, yes" came the man's reply. "Becoming a doctor is no easy feat and working with the dead is of course part of that training. How can I assist you though? Can I get you any refreshments?"

The witch hunter captain scratched his chin and blinked his eyes. He was still tired from sleep deprivation tonight. The last few nights had been bad as well. "I carry my own canteen thank you."

"As you wish" answered the man.

"But you can answer some questions for me." said Malvanius.

The man calmly nodded at this.

Malvanius continued, "The murder scene is close to this house. Did you see anyone move in or out of that opposite alleyway tonight?"

The man replied, "I saw or heard no one I'm afraid. My work kept me busy here. What a shame that someone had lost their life so close to me. I might have been able to help him? Her?"

Malvanius knew his trap hadn't been set off so he loosed the truth from its restraints he'd kept it in, "Actually there were two bodies, both men. Some suspicious marks are upon them."

The young apprentice doctor started, "Sorry, where are my manners, I am Dieter De'ath. This is my tutor's house but I stay over to complete my training on his assigned nights."

Malvanius asked, "Why only nights?"

The man replied, "I work nights because I am an insomniac who also suffers from onieromancy. Morr would have words with me... I dread what I might see when I close my eyes, I do not want to see the future anymore."

Malvanius considered the man's name – De'ath. It wasn't too uncommon but it was always interesting to encounter. Families would often put an apostrophe somewhere in the name to lessen its morbid meaning. Truth be told though, the word was truly death, regardless of how many apostrophes were used.

Malvanius asked, "Where is the master of the house then?"

The man answered, "I haven't seen him all night. He has been out, perhaps on calls. I'm not worried, it's perfectly normal for him."

Malvanius growled at the man. If anyone else were present they would think he looked like a child against the witch hunter's huge frame and terrible size, "There are no secrets from a witch hunter!"

The man politely bowed his head in understanding, obviously taking no discomfort in the witch hunter's presence. Malvanius was not used to this. Normally he might be suspicious, but this time he simply wasn't getting that bad feeling in his gut that he would normally get about someone when questioning them. He quietly liked this man, his confidence and professionalism, his strength under the pressure of his company made him stand out. Perhaps this was a man who could end up working on his team once fully qualified, thought Malvanius. Suddenly he heard himself and took a step back internally, unsure of what had just happened to him then. Every time he tried to connect the possibility of the murders outside to this man, it just seemed to make less and less sense, as if he encountered a mental block that forced his normally sharp mind to find it hard to concentrate.

"One of my men will remain here if that is okay? We will wait for the good doctor to return. Meanwhile, I want you to get some rest at the very least and join us outside just after dawn. Don't try and run, we have this house monitored completely."

"Of course" was the man's reply.

The man then saw Malvanius to the door. The witch hunter's sharp eagle like eyes came upon the coat and hat stand. None of the garments upon it were wet. The man's shoes were not wet either. He checked the floor. The door had no mat with which to wipe one's feet upon but the carpet was not previously wet or dirty except for his own recognizably large footprints upon it. "That will be all for now, I shall expect you later today."

With that he was gone. Once the door was closed, the witch hunter who had previously disappeared around the back had reappeared and shook his head at his leader.

Malvanius wondered why he was really inviting the man to the scene of the crime later on. Perhaps to test him to see if he would make good student material, perhaps to attempt to trick him once the others were present to throw him off. He still wanted to speak to the man's master, the doctor of the house. That remained a concern.

The doctor did not return to his house that night and still no sign had been seen of him by morning. This had already been reported back to Malvanius and he was just glad to see Dieter appear. At least part of the proceedings of investigation could continue for now. He didn't feel hopeful about getting much from the other three he had gathered here.

Dieter asked "May I?" and Malvanius nodded affirmatively. The man then proceeded to investigate the bodies.

Dieter began to deliver an assessment, "These men were bound to the spot but not by force. There is no bruising anywhere. Perhaps they were afraid of something? Lack of defensive wounds suggest their minds were clouded beyond the possibility of defence. The killer was six to seven foot in height and this could not have been done by somebody working alone. The slashes to the torso and neck here and here indicate the attackers were full of rage."

As the man's words echoed through Maestro's head, a strange vision began to take over his thoughts. As the student doctor recreated the scene, the wizard too was able to see it vividly. There were the two men frozen to the spot, afraid of a looming darkness casting across them. The doctor continued, "Death was probably instant, by knife wound to their necks, as you can see, the heads were left in place upon the bodies but one was almost severed as you can see. You can't do that sort of damage in any right state of mind."

Again, Maestro was beginning to witness these things in his head - a blade lashed out and slit the jugular of one terrified man. His death gurgles did nothing to shift the second man from his fearful cowering position. Unknown to him, the wizard had now stepped out of the interrogation line Malvanius had set in place for them. He was wandering about as if in a dream. His eyes stared off into nothingness. His heart rate had increased considerably. The doctor continued, "The angle of the attacks indicate a right handed person, from this right to left swiping damage." The man aided the group's understanding of further by gesturing with his own left hand making a right to left slash of the air.

The man's voice became a blur of sound and was gone as far as Maestro was aware. At that moment he was seeing everything as it had happened through the killer's eyes! He could see the men being ripped apart and their organs and insides being positioned across the wall in a purposeful intricate manner, as if some symbolic relevance was to be gained from its gory attention to detail. Somehow the body parts were sticking to the brickwork, he did not know how. Maestro was frightened and panicked but still he could not break free from the vision. He saw the killer's gloved hands drawing a symbol on the wall high above the alleyway. Somehow through the killer's eyes he could tell he was elevated high off the ground. The symbol, it was familiar yet strange to him. What was it? He thought. Then realisation dawned on him. It was the mark of Chaos drawn in black chalk, the eight pointed star that had been seen on many a chaos warrior's heraldry but not often seen in the capital city of the Empire itself, surely? Maestro wondered, as the rest of the symbol began to make sense. The mark of Slaanesh was carved into it aggressively over the top, in red gore encrusted blood.

Rissandrea called out "Maestro" as the wizard collapsed to his knees and coughed, spittle and bile making its way to the ground from his trembling lips. Meanwhile in his vision he saw the picture go black and saw those two men receiving weapons from a secretive meeting of men dressed in black, hosted in what looked like a cellar that too was painted black.

Suddenly Maestro's mind was his own again and he shivered in trauma at the visions he had just witnessed.

Malvanius asked, "What is going on with you? Answer before I put you to the sword." Malvanius meant his threat too. His sword was drawn and pointed at Maestro. He had seen the wizard's eyes change and wasn't taking any chances.

Maestro weakly pointed upwards with one shaking finger, up at the top of the alley wall, without even looking in person, his eyes averted downward. Everyone else looked upwards and there they saw the convoluted chaotic symbols, drawn across each other. Malvanius's face took on a look of sudden supernatural zeal, "It is a message, from the pleasure god!" The last two words were uttered with great disgust, spittle had come out and remained on his lips as he furiously continued, "across the symbol of those men who are undecided…a power play by the servants of chaos."

Maestro pulled himself to his feet, a little worse for wear.

Malvanius pointed the sword at the wizard's throat, "Speak, how did you know that symbol was there?"

Tordrad reached down for his scimitar and was calmed by a look from Rissandrea. Tordrad's hand still remained ready but he did not draw the weapon.

Maestro felt as if this ordeal had strained him, more than he could handle for this sort of interrogation, but he knew that his life would be on the line so continued, "I saw it, through the killer's eyes."

"A confession at last, you are the killer!" said Malvanius.

Maestro quickly defended himself, "Of course I'm not! The ebb and flow of powers that be", he forced some more breaths in and out and continued, "born unto the Witchling Star granted me mage sight enough to see it happen."

Malvanius knew that this was a common occurrence in wizards, but normally those of higher power, for visions as precise and severe as these. He disliked wizards, but he knew that he had to understand them to understand the path to chaos. All magic was at its core chaotic after all. The colleges of magic had their own police, the magistrates who would attend to rogue members of their order, so punishment of this one would be tricky politics…he decided he wasn't going to tell the wizard that though.

Malvanius sneered, a sneer so fierce that it made his facial scarring itch, "You are a wizard studying to learn the lore of heavens. I saw it on your licence. You will have to improve wizard, because looking into the future is what is called for in the Celestial Colleges, not into the past!"

With that he seemed happy with his spiteful outburst. Still his sword remained at the wizard's throat. "I don't like you" he added.

"I'm…I'm sorry" answered Maestro, genuinely.

"There's no need for that, witch hunter" chimed in Rissandrea, "He has just been under a mental ordeal, I would rather you..."

Malvanius's sword at her throat cut her words off mid speech. "I don't like you either, girl. I don't like any of you."

Malvanius turned to Dieter who was now standing watching the spectacle. He put a sword towards his throat too and continued, "Alright, this is how it is going to be. You say you are innocent. I have seen some suspicious things already. I will consider that a murderer might yet be amongst you. You want to prove you are innocent. You are a clever lot, all of you." Malvanius was obviously taking Dieter into account too as he had stood back to address them all as a group now and continued, "So you will work together and find the culprit of this murder. You will do it before the sun sets again or I swear I'll have the lot of you in my jail and find out things that your unborn grandchildren will be guilty of in years to come!"

Malvanius had decided that he was being fair, not taking them away here and now. He wanted the situation resolved, but he also sensed something interesting about this group. He knew the wizard's surname from somewhere too. He'd have to look into that later. "Oh and don't get any ideas about fleeing from the city, I will have eyes upon you at all times. The callous hand of justice will follow you into the daemonic planes if they must!"

Maestro shook his head worriedly. He hadn't even made it out of the city yet and all of this had happened. "I knew I should have left the city last night instead." He observed.

Before Malvanius could reply, a small higher pitched voice intervened from behind him, answering "Yes you should, why didn't you just leave, Maestro?"

The wizard looked around behind him and couldn't see anyone there. An invisible person perhaps! He wondered. A ghost! An invisible ghost? Before his train of thought was stopped again.

"No, down here you dimwit."

Maestro looked down and saw a halfling standing in front of him. He was roughly half of Maestro's height, wore the blue and white robes of the Celestial College, with no shoes upon his large hairy feet as were the norm for his kind and a face that hinted at terrible disappointment at Maestro.

Malvanius was handed a piece of official looking paper by one of his witch hunter fellows and read it. Great, he thought, more politics getting involved with a perfectly good investigation.

The witch hunter took his leave from the group.

The halfling herded the four of them along out of the area with arms out wide waving for them to carry on forwards.

With a small nagging voice he stated, "It's no good standing around here, you've your heads to save before the night is out." giving a deep stressful sigh. He expected to find they'd all be put to death come morning – all except him of course.


	3. Chapter 3

**Their Fated Travels…**

By Robert James Freemantle

Plot Events by Lory Cozens

Chapter Three

Investigative Means?

Once they were clear of the area, the halfling introduced himself. "I am Tobias Wilwart, a master at the Celestial College of magic."

Rissandrea nodded her head peacefully.

Tordrad pointed at himself and replied in his dark monotone, "Tor-drad".

"Dieter", came the trainee doctor's unenthusiastic introduction as he did his best not to even make eye contact with the newcomer.

Maestro gestured emphatically like he'd done before in the Two Headed Goose, "I am Maestro Rophel…"

"I know who you are you nincompoop Maestro!" Tobias butted in, "I've been calling you by name haven't I?"

Tordrad smiled. He enjoyed seeing this little man get flustered.

Tobias began to walk on and the others followed with him, like lost sheep.

Maestro started, "You…wait a moment, you say you are a master at the college? My College?"

Tobias answered sharply, "I am."

Maestro was left dumbstruck at this, "How…can… that be? Halflings as you so clearly are the race of."

"Oh thank you for noticing." Interrupted Tobias.

Maestro continued without understanding the sarcasm, "That's perfectly fine. Well Halflings are perhaps the least magical of people in the entire world! There has never and could never be a halfling wizard, so they say."

"Indeed they are right as they say it." answered Tobias smugly, enjoying the fact that this confused Maestro further still, as was clear upon his face.

The halfling peered at him through the thick lenses of his round rimmed spectacles and started, "It is for…" only to pause a moment, interrupted by spotting the strange spectacles that Maestro wore before continuing, "It is for that very reason that I am hired. It is useful to have an academic amongst the cosmological illumine who will never present the threat of magical backlash or even sudden involuntary spell casting, for those sensitive times…Of course my folk are also naturally resistant to magical effects from others too. That is why I am here for you."

Maestro stared as if he half understood. Rissandrea saw this and asked Maestro, "What is that supposed to mean, Maestro?"

Maestro took a noticeably audible breath and spoke to the group, wanting to clarify things in his own words before the halfling could do it for him. "My magical attunement is a little unusual…My own spells though only considered petty magic focus on the blue wind, the Azyr lore of Heavens for their power. Eventually I will learn the actual spells of that school, to control elements of the sky and the stars. However, when I am around others who are magically imbued, I have a tendency to let their winds of focus, no-matter which of the lores - seep into mine. It's quite involuntary I assure you. It might mean that instead of seeing the spell come out as lightning for example, I might see fire if around my master who is a bright wizard. It hasn't been serious yet. I mean, the intent of the spell still comes out the same, but it's usually just a different colour…heh heh…"

"It's not just a matter of colour!" snapped Tobias, "Colour! You think that is all there is to it? Once you have learnt more of our college's lore you will have a bigger variety of spells to draw from, and therefore greater danger of mishap because of this."

Maestro felt embarrassment flush his cheeks, "Well I suppose there is that. My tutors call it 'empathic channelling'. They say it's quite a unique problem. So unique that before me, there has never before been a case of it. Heh…"

Tobias looked up at Maestro with one eye sharply focusing upon him, like a magistrate looking at a nearly convicted criminal.

Tordrad listened but could understand barely anything from what was being said between the others. He felt so alone, so distant. It was probably for the better though, he told himself. They were not like him. The people of the Empire could never truly understand what it was to be a Kislevite, to live the life and grow up in that cold and harsh land. He had understood the word "magic" though. In Kislev, male casters were thought of suspiciously. Kislevite males who became magically gifted would not be allowed to practice the art in their kingdom. Terrible things would then happen to them, he remembered. Only women were considered pure enough to safely wield magic. The Tzarina, supreme ruler of his country was so pure that the power she wielded was not from the winds of magic at all, but from the land itself - an ice magic, a different sort of power altogether. Tordrad knew this as he had spent quite some time in the presence of the great lady…but that was in the past. That was a time that was long behind him now. Tordrad considered Maestro to be dangerous, by his people's standards. He silently told himself that if he saw any element of foul chaos ever mutate in the man, if he saw any taint come about him at all he would slay him immediately, regardless of how much he had been paid to protect him. Tordrad inwardly challenged Maestro to prove him wrong. He hoped he would…sometimes he hoped he wouldn't. That was usually when the wizard would blather on and make his head hurt from senseless talking. Though he couldn't understand much of it, he always knew from other people's faces that his suspicions were true.

Tobias continued, "I have been instructed to make sure that you leave the city as promptly as possible. At which point our paths will part I assure you." The halfling was quick to make that particular point and continued, "Unfortunately that means helping you out with your current predicament. The masters wanted someone to give you one last initial assessment, seeing as you had remained in the city one last night. I am the safest candidate to deliver that final report before you leave. After all, I have no magic to interfere with yours as you attempt to…deal with this situation you've foolishly gotten yourself into." His last words were particularly scornful and snobbish. Tobias promptly pulled out a notebook and began taking notes in it, as if this new point he'd angrily made inspired him to write something already.

Maestro stared at the notebook nervously and then looked back at the group, "Well there we are then, uhh, so, where do you all think we should start our search?"

Tordrad was quickest to respond, "Tav-ern!"

Maestro and Rissandrea looked a little disappointed with that. It made them realise that they were really a team of four, as far as this murder investigation went.

Tobias replied, "No, I think your shaved ape may well have it. That's a perfectly good place to start."

Rissandrea looked questioningly at the halfling who continued, "Not to drink you silly girl, to gain information. One of those men is a sailor. He must frequent other bars in the area. I know of one in this district that captains tend to frequent together. Perhaps we can find this man's superior."

The group decided to follow Tobias. At least someone knew what to do. This seemed to make him all the more smug. Maestro decided that he didn't like this fellow. He'd be glad to be away from him after all of this.

They arrived at a tavern that they couldn't discern a name from by looking at on the outside. A sign did hang from the building, but it had been defaced with a strange black liquid. Perhaps very old and dry blood thought Tordrad.

Rissandrea became nauseous at the thought of entering yet another place of drinking, where men would become uninhibited. This usually meant stupid as well, she thought.

The halfling squinted at the building with a smile, "This is the place, the nameless tavern. I was instructed of the place before coming to meet you."

The group peered at Tobias with a look of surprise. He answered their questioning gaze, "Once your situation became apparent last night, a master wizard did use his gift of future sight, thus divining that we would end up coming here and informed me of such. I then did my research about the place before coming to meet you. It shall be the first step on the path to…getting you out of Altdorf, Maestro."

Maestro sighed and slumped his shoulders at this. Yes he thought, that did indeed sound like the way the masters of his college operated.

Tobias continued, "And before you ask, no they saw nothing more. We were pressed for time as it was."

Dieter listened and said nothing. He found the idea of future sight interesting. It reminded him of his ability to divine in dreams. He considered that Morr had perhaps selected him for a greater purpose, but for Dieter that was unacceptable. He would never follow someone else's purpose - even a god. No, he would follow his own course. He had ample proof of what letting fate carry you along achieved. It created unhappy bullied people like Maestro, he thought.

Tordrad was first through the door, followed by Tobias. Next come Dieter. Lastly Maestro and Rissandrea entered together at the back, feebly pushing the door open between the pair of them. They both instinctively waited by the entrance. Tordrad went straight to the bar and ordered vodka. He had not eaten breakfast yet he considered, and asked for a raw egg which he cracked in it and drank down. Luckily the Kislevite word for egg was similar to the Reikspiel word for it. It had then just been a case of Tordrad stopping the barman from putting it into a pot by taking it from his hand. The barman had been the only staff member working at this hour.

The others looked around the bar. A few men sat at tables here and there, slumped heavily over them or drooping down in their seats, still effected by the last night's drinking.

Tobias cleared his throat and spoke loudly to the bar as a whole, "Is there a man here who recognizes a ship mate by the name of Marlbrow? He would be a man in his middle years. Always smoked a cigarette."

One man grunted a little, from a seat further along the aisle off to the right. He seemed to not care enough to actually speak or rise from the chair though. Tobias and Dieter proceeded to walk over to him.

Maestro walked into the tavern a little more and looked at Rissandrea again. When she looked across at him he quickly looked away. She had noticed him doing this since they first met. She was used to men behaving bizarrely around her, but never one to actually look nervous like this man did when he glanced at her. She wanted to get to the bottom of this. Maestro inched away from her and walked over towards Tordrad at the bar.

The human trainee doctor was small by human standards but he too was much larger than the halfling. They had looked at the man at the table and seen that his eyes were now closed again. Dieter shook the man's arm, "Are you alright? Perhaps I can help? I have medical knowledge."

"Whuu?" came the captain's reply, "Bahh, doctor is it? Sod off. The day Cap'n Barbickle needs helpin' after splicin' the main brace allowed of his rank, is the day he don't deserve it no more." With that, the man leaned back in the seat and started snoring loudly, with his eyes still open.

Dieter looked a little cross and frustrated at this. Tobias saw this on his face and raised a calming hand. "No Dieter…what, what is your surname anyway?"

"De'ath" came the man's reply in between the captain's awake snoring.

"Death?"

"De'ath!" Dieter stated again trying to keep his cool.

"Yes well…well I was going to say, we can't handle this in a way where we get frustrated and agitated in our tone. It will agitate this man here too."

With that, the halfling turned to face the captain straight on, braced himself and delivered a quick short sharp kick to the man's shin.

The snoring sound took a quick upturned tone, "Snooorrrraaaark" as the man sat up attentively with eyes wide.

"What was that?" asked the man in the seat.

Tobias replied, "I'm not sure, I came over to ask you a couple of questions and you seemed to jump awake. Perhaps you were having a strange dream." Before adding, "What do you remember of it?"

The captain considered this properly and blinked his eyes five times quickly trying to remember. "Ah" he said at last, "Fer some reason I 'ave a passin' recollection o' thinkin' o' Marlbrow. He's me second ta half cousin 'n' shipmate 'im."

"What a coincidence" Tobias said humouring him.

Dieter looked at the drunkard as if he was a pathetic waste of space as Tobias continued, "It is strange indeed, very strange that you should be dreaming of him Sir because I bring you news of that very person."

The man looked expectantly at Tobias with an impatient gestured hand. The halfling took the cue and continued, "I bring you most terrible news. He has died Sir."

"Died?" the captain exclaimed. "You must have someone else, the man has skin thicker than the sails of our ship."

Dieter answered the man, privately inside his own head. His internal reply was: Well that is good news then, because you are going to be able to use it for your ship now, with him being a corpse as he is. He was very glad he hadn't said it, but it amused him to think it.

Tobias replied, "I'm sorry Sir, it must have come as a shock, but I saw the body myself. I am an official of the city after all."

Captain Barbickle looked at the halfling, summing him up and came to a conclusion of agreement. Aside from his clothing, his snooty self assured way of speaking was enough to convince him of that. A look of sorrow came over his face. The captain considered never getting to have a drunken fight with the man ever again and it was appalling. He clenched his bottom lip upwards in a sign of sadness.

Tobias continued, "Yes, it is terrible and it was a dreadful murder too. Chaos symbols were involved…"

The captain became interested when the halfling had said this, "Chaos you say?"

The halfling nodded.

Dieter decidedly asked, "Do you perhaps remember anything that could help us determine who his killer might be? Had he been under suspicion of mixing with chaos cults or the like recently?"

The captain nodded as if he knew something.

Dieter stated, "If you know something, tell us. The ruinous powers are your enemy too. We are on the same side."

The captain stared at the bar, considering if it was too late or perhaps too early to have another drink. He wasn't quite sure what the time was right now. He didn't want to risk looking at the window, it looked bright. That would perhaps suggest day he thought and then saw the look of concerned anticipation on the faces of the two who were bothering him here.

"Alright, if it will get me some peace." He began, "Old Marlbrow's friend, a landlubber who had grown up with him here, well I started to have my concerns about him recently. There were rumours about him…you know?"

"No, I am afraid I do not, please enlighten me Sir" said Tobias.

"Oh come on, you know?" started the captain, "That he was into the sex scene around here."

Dieter considered that this was taking too long and they didn't have all day…he hurried the conversation along, "A sex club, connected to a pleasure cult perhaps?"

The captain nodded. "Well, it's not a sure thing, but men who frequented that place too long were often found attending much darker places, after getting offers, you know, from mysterious strangers who'd approach 'em."

Tobias asked, "This friend, what was his name?"

The captain answered, "Hal Fausten is his name."

Tobias gripped his beautiful notebook with its ornate carvings upon it and confirmed, "Yes, well that is the name of the other dead man."

The captain looked truly shocked at that and added, "Look, I'm sure there's more to it than I know, or want to know, an I'm startin' to sober enough to realise that it's better the less I know. My ship ain't set to sail for another two days. In that time a man can find a knife in his ribs from knowing too much."

Dieter considered the captain's words privately and spoke, "Then we will leave our line of questioning at that. Thank you for your assistance. We will be gone as soon as you tell us the address of this…club."

The captain seemed unwilling to speak its name, instead grabbing for the halfling's notebook. Tobias took exception to this and held it firm, despite the man's tugging at it. A stern look of requested common sense came from Dieter. Tobias let it effect him and he loosened his grip. In truth, Dieter already knew the address of this club, but it wouldn't do the others knowing that he knew of it, he assured himself.

The captain wrote the address into the page as Tobias lamented his fine book being touched by such filthy unwashed hands.

As soon as the book was returned to him, they made their way to the door and called the others. Tordrad drank down his vodka in one and came outside to join them.

Notes were compared and the next destination was set. As soon as it was revealed that they were going to a strip bar, Dieter remained silent, Maestro had managed a quavering expression, Rissandrea looked horrified and stated that she would have to wait outside. Maestro agreed and considered that he should do the same. Tordrad had cheered loudly and said something crude in Kislevite. Tobias sighed long and expressively.

The walk took them quite some time. The middle of the day was looming up ahead of them already but eventually they had arrived at their destination. It had looked like any other building in the run down area. That's because it kept that appearance to maintain its business being able to operate under the radar. Only those who wanted it would look hard enough to find it and finding it was strictly word of mouth.

Maestro reminded the group, "I don't want to go in here. I would rather delve into a tomb filled with Nehekaran bodies than enter here! No if Rissandrea can wait outside, so can I."

Tordrad looked at him questioning the man's masculinity. This one seemed to be a bit too concerned, even for a weakling like a wizard.

As the group approached the door, a well built man dressed in black who had been stood outside came over to meet them and asked, "What can I help you with?"

Tordrad indicated a finger towards the door. The man nodded his head sarcastically back, what else could he want?

"Alright" he started, "Only nobles may enter here. This one amongst you," and he pointed to Maestro, "you're a noble I can tell, you're the leader of this group are you?"

Maestro took a moment to realise that the large man was talking to him. Dieter elbowed him sharply in the arm from the back which made the wizard jump and begin speaking immediately, "Ah yes, they are my entourage my good man."

It was then that he realised that he had been cornered into having to enter now, or else no one would get in.

Rissandrea waited outside as the others went into the inconspicuous enough looking building.

Inside, it looked like a normal bar. They could see that the interior was dimly lit, with red and white lighting barely giving indication of the floor space around them. There were too many shadows in the club for Tordrad's liking.

Dieter led the way, taking the initiative to move over to the coat depository cupboard. He began looking through the coats at once.

Tobias looked around and noticed that there were quite a number of people in there, more than he had expected at this time of day. They were busy with discussions amongst themselves, card and rune stone games or just leaning back listening to the weak warbling skinny woman singing softly on a tiny makeshift stage to the left of the bar. Her clothes looked dirty and ragged, as if she had been dragged here straight from a kitchen somewhere and made to sing for them. Maestro doubted that this could be the case though…

Tobias understood Dieter's idea and helped him in his search of the coats. Maestro didn't even care. He was more concerned with what was going on around him.

Tordrad kept his eyes fixed on one place, a section of wall with nobody in his line of sight, but it was a spot that his peripheral vision could perceive the rest of the club from on both sides, just not with any great detail.

"That's one is damp." Said Tobias as he ruffled one coat in particular.

"What is its ticket number?" asked Dieter.

"Good thinking" replied Tobias, "Number twenty-three" he added. Dieter nodded solemnly in response.

Maestro's eyes focused on something strange across the room. An innocent looking man that was moving towards a back room had pulled a brown leather glove back to reveal the back of his hand, the skin of which was tattooed with the symbol of Slaanesh.

Maestro's heart began beating faster, as another man waiting at the exit saw this and gave the first man an envelope. He then went through the opened door and disappeared into darkness.

Maestro hurriedly told the others what he had seen and it was soon decided that he and Dieter should proceed after the man, on Dieter's insistence. The other two were forced to agree and decided they would keep checking the coats. Whoever owned them will have been out in the rain last night and for some reason had decided to stay at the club, perhaps laying low thought Tobias.

As they approached the door the man had left through, Dieter whispered to Maestro out of the side of his mouth, "Stop looking so nervous, you'll blow our cover."

Maestro for a moment looked even more nervous and then corrected himself appropriately.

The security guard waiting at the door hadn't believed it, but laughed to himself. He was used to seeing nervous nobles entering this area. He gave them a nod. Both men nodded back politely as was expected of them, they thought.

Dieter opened the door and was surprised to see a short passage that ran on for perhaps only six feet before ending in a black velvet curtain that went all the way down to the richly carpeted floor.

Dieter gestured with his head as if to say, come on, and pushed through the curtain. Maestro followed with much trepidation.

In that cramped space, both men had realised that the other had about them a curious smell, hard to identify but unlike anything either of them had known before.

As Maestro pulled the curtain back, he saw Dieter already walking into the room, unbothered by the half naked women walking around him. The patrons weren't likely to notice him either, with their eyes firmly being elsewhere.

Dieter quickly moved forwards and took a half full glass of some orange coloured drink from an empty table so that he would have a prop in hand to blend in with.

Maestro kept his distance from Dieter, knowing that he they split up they would stand out less. He tried his best not to look at the topless women spinning seductively around the poles on stage, to music provided by a band of miscreant weasel faced traveller types.

The man they had seen previously was over by a corner talking to a second man, smiling enthusiastically. Dieter was closer to them but his eyes were fixed down and away, somewhere near the floor. Even though it would have been out of earshot for most people, Dieter was able to overhear some of the conversation, a particularly skilled ability at hearing that he decided he wouldn't share with anyone else, yet.

Maestro was watching the men and trying his hardest to understand what they were saying. He had managed to lip read several phrases: "Temple of Verena" and "today" were two in particular that caught his attention.

Soon after the two men left the room together.

A short while after they had departed from the room, Maestro and Dieter made eye contact and established at a distance that they should leave now.

Upon getting back to the rest of the group they confirmed that the two men had passed through the bar area and left out through the front door.

Dieter mentioned that he had overheard them talking about daemons and that today was the day. Maestro quickly compared this to what he had been able to lip read.

Finally Tobias explained that they had found a second damp coat. It had the number seventy six on it. He quickly referenced these numbers against the visitors log book as Dieter and Maestro kept the book keeper busy and they found that the log in times were suspiciously late last night. What really did it, was when he turned the page and saw that the two men who had logged their coats out just now were numbers twenty three and seventy six.

The entire group walked outside where a concerned looking Rissandrea was remaining inconspicuous across the street by standing underneath a fruit and vegetable shop's canvas roofing, protecting the stalls set up outside and bathing the area in a lot of shadow.

Rissandrea quickly made her way to the others and surprised them all by speaking first, "Those two men who just left, I know them. They are members of the cult of Verena."

The others looked surprised but grateful for this knowledge. It confirmed that the information they had learnt pieced together in a way that was suspicious. They realised as one that they should investigate the Temple of Verena at once. Tobias stated as much and there were no objections.

They set off immediately, with Rissandrea showing them the way.


	4. Chapter 4

Their Fated Travels…

By Robert James Freemantle

Plot Events by Lory Cozens

Chapter Four

Blind Justice – The Discovery

They had arrived at the Temple of Verena and stayed outside to discuss their next move. Though the afternoon had crept on, the sun was persistently shining through the clouds, like a piercing eye of justice of some God looking down upon the world, awaiting divine retribution…

Dieter squinted his eyes cautiously, as if straining his peripheral vision to the limits, the sun wasn't helping. Rissandrea saw this and enquired, "What is wrong? You've been doing that since we first set off for the nameless tavern".

Before the man could answer, Tordrad shouted enthusiastically, "Drinking?" before Maestro dashed his high hopes.

"No Tordrad, we need clear minds for this."

Tordrad grumbled quietly, saying a few words that no one else understood.

Dieter finally replied, "Yes, I have felt suspicions ever since we started this investigation. Something making the hairs on my arms stand up."

"And what do you suspect?" Tobias asked.

"That we are being followed." He replied. "Two of them, I believe it is the witch hunter's men. Shadowing us. One on the rooftops, one on the ground."

Maestro looked around blatantly, searching for any sign of something suspicious.

Dieter scowled, "They won't give themselves away that easy. They have probably been following us to make sure we do not try to run from the city."

"It is perhaps a good thing" started Rissandrea, "after all, they are on our side. If things turn bad, perhaps they would help."

Dieter frowned at this suggestion, "No, that is not likely at all I'm afraid. They would let us die so as to view the power of their enemy. It is what I would do were I them."

The others stared at Dieter with a little concern before he himself broke their thoughts with, "But the minutes hand of the clock still moves ever onwards, perhaps pointing towards our fate tonight if we do not hurry along and solve this case."

There were certainly no arguments with that.

Maestro was straining, an attempt to scout the witch hunters positions from the scrying technique of mage sight. He couldn't manage it. Tobias could tell as he stared at the wizard's embarrassed expression.

Comments were privately made in the notebook, the halfling enjoyed writing this particular piece Maestro noticed, as his tongue was stuck out a little to the side in his concentration.

Maestro couldn't shake off the anxious feeling that was building up in his stomach. He wasn't experienced enough to know if this was his magic senses speaking or just the usual butterflies in the stomach he would get before a college test, which would be invariably failed of course.

Maestro was a little too old to still be an apprentice wizard, after all, he had now studied for quite a number of years. Everyone else seemed concerned about this fact, everyone except Maestro himself. He didn't see what all the fuss was about. He liked his life. It was safe. Tame. He already hated adventure and he hadn't even started yet.

The others who were in Maestro's first apprentice classes which he attended when he wasn't studying privately with his master, were all ahead of him now. Every single pupil had advanced to at least journeyman level of wizadry. Some had advanced even further. He didn't care about that either. It was a case of motivation, being that he had none. Even his master, the great Magnamus despaired at what to do, but never once did he ever seem to give up on Maestro. Never once did he suggest ending their tuition. He didn't understand that. Why?

Rissandrea spoke out, "Verena is the Goddess of learning and justice. My order have close ties with them in our procedural arrangements for city wide protocols. Were the city invaded for example, our orders would work together to swiftly set up a coalition of local preparedness."

Tobias shook his head in some distress, "There surely cannot be something wrong with the Temple of justice itself! That would be ridiculous."

Dieter smiled darkly, "Malvanius would disagree with you there..."

Rissandrea and Maestro looked around worriedly, as if the merest mention of the witch hunter captain's name might make him materialize somehow.

Rissandrea continued her train of thought, "I will go in first. You should remain out here. I will talk to them, in my official capacity and learn what I can. If I do not return within thirty minutes, assume something is wrong and go on without me."

Maestro replied, "Right you are."

Tobias almost hit the wizard in the arm, and then reckoned his leg would be an easier target, then realised he'd taken too long to decide and the moment had passed but he did say, "You would let this girl walk into potential danger alone?"

Maestro was about to reply with something that would have perhaps gotten him into even more trouble with the halfling, but Rissandrea smiled and spared him with, "It is alright. They would not harm me. I will have come to them on official church business. The front area is a public place as well. I shall remain only there."

This seemed to calm the halfling down again.

Tordrad chuckled at how funny he thought the small man looked. He didn't meet many of The Moot folk in his country. This was quite a novelty for him.

It was decided then. Rissandrea opened the great doors and disappeared inside. All they could do was wait patiently.

Dieter remained in a constant frown. Tordrad saw this too, laughed and pointed. The Kislevite thought his attempt at a frowning face made him look more comical than anything. Dieter was suitably offended of course, internally.

The initiate of Shallya had been gone for only eight minutes when she returned again, putting her hand up to block the sun that shone into her eyes. The daylight beamed against her glasses making her seem like she had two glowing white balls of energy where her eyes should be.

Maestro was the only one to notice the effect. He made sure to not let his imagination wander into something inventive that would work in a story he might one day write and forced himself to hear what she had to say instead.

Rissandrea looked glum, "I spoke to them. They were convinced that I was there on official business to talk to the Magistrate. They told me he was busy. I did not like it. There was something in the woman's tone that suggested to me that she did not believe her own words."

Tobias frowned suspiciously as Rissandrea continued, "They said that the temple was now closing to the public for the day…That isn't right. They think because I am just an initiate that I am simple, that I will think nothing more of the word of superiors. There's more too. As I left, I curtsied and took the attendant's hand in my own respectfully. As soon as I touched her skin a wave of emotion, her emotion struck me. It made me sweat with panic. She was scared - too scared to even tell me."

Tordrad could tell where this conversation was going by the tone and expression on everyone's faces. He knew a fight would not be far away. Good, he thought, his muscular limbs were feeling stiff and could use a workout.

Dieter began, "We can not barge through the front door and push everyone aside until we find something to incriminate them, even though I am sure Tordrad here would quite enjoy that."

The Kislevite looked suspiciously at the man as he continued, "So what do we do?"

His attention was caught by Maestro who was stood wavering on his feet. He then blinked his eyes and kept them open, wider than normal.

Dieter followed the wizard's gaze. It led down towards the ground in front of them.

Rissandrea noticed and asked, "Maestro? What can you see there?"

The wizard looked nervous, as if he was on the brink of a breakthrough. To his eyes he saw a faint trail beginning to appear before him, growing stronger by the moment as it ran along the ground. It was a purple to pink hue with wisps of black running through it. Every time he thought his eyes could perceive the colour exactly, it appeared to shift out of understanding again. Even its texture looked like an ever shifting elongated snake of smooth shapes, then rough, then spiky then cloudy. It made him start to feel queasy trying to focus too hard on the specifics of its surface so he instead tried to follow where it went.

He spoke, "I, am seeing in witch sight now. I believe it is…a dhar manifestation of one of the daemonic elements."

Tobias raised his eyebrows impressed. Maestro noticed that the halfling hadn't written it into the notebook however. Typical, he thought.

Dieter lied and asked, "In plain Reikspiel please Maestro."

"Of course, I'm sorry" came the wizard's reply. "I am seeing a residual effect from the presence of chaos power. I believe it is… Slaanesh."

At the mention of that name, Rissandrea marked her finger through the air, signing the sigil of several different holy orders into the space in front of her just to be on the safe side.

Maestro squinted through his spectacles until he saw the trail open up further in the distance too. He pointed at it, remarking, "The magical trail, it goes towards the Temple and in through the front door but it is fading weaker there." He briefly wondered if perhaps Rissandrea was the cause of it, if she was the killer. She was a woman after all. Then he saw that the trail led a different way additionally.

He continued, "My witch sight shows me that the trail continues strongest and thickest down the side of the building itself, past those bushes there."

"Perhaps there is a side door somewhere there." suggested Rissandrea.

Maestro dearly didn't want to have to follow it. However, he didn't want to be tortured by Malvanius either, for a crime he did not commit. That settled it. Malvanius to him at that moment in time was far scarier than any chaos cultist could possibly be. He pressed on, following the trail like a blood hound on a scent. The others shrugged and followed.

Soon they had gone around the outside edge of the building and still no door was to be seen, aside from the servants' entrance, but Maestro had steered the group away from that as the trail clearly led this other way…straight to…a wall.

The wizard looked a little embarrassed by this.

Tobias asked, "You are sure it leads here? Truly?"

Maestro responded, "That or my magic is on the blink."

"Don't count that option out" added Tobias who made a note in his book.

Dieter tapped his walking stave to the brickwork. It sounded solid enough.

"Perhaps a secret door?" asked Maestro.

"You don't say?" Dieter replied, sarcasm dripping venomously as if from the fangs of a cobra. It was lost on Maestro.

The wizard instead looked at the ground for possible scratch marks from where a door might open there. The ground was clear, but bending down as he had, brought something else interesting to his attention – a large gap under this particular section of wall. It had to be a door!

Dieter tapped another section and this part sounded hollow instead. He nodded smugly to the others as Maestro began yanking at the gap, his fingers underneath it trying to find a suitable purchase.

He strained and pulled with all his might, which was considerably less than perhaps anyone else in the group. Or that's what Tordrad thought. He considered that this weak man could probably lose an arm wrestling competition to the holy woman here as he bent down and pushed Maestro out of the way, almost knocking him over with his sudden strength at the man's shoulder.

Tordrad slotted his large calloused fingers under the gap and stared at the section of wall above it, top to bottom for a good few moments. Then removed his hands from underneath and pressed very deliberately at a certain point of the wall, about a third up from the bottom. The stone began to push inwards and a door shaped opening suddenly revealed itself in the wall.

Tordrad considered that this door reminded him of the secret escape passages the Tzarina used in her palace back in Kislev…

Tordrad pushed on the door and it began to move. Maestro helped, believing that his strength was contributing something.

It certainly disturbed many of them that this door was so heavy, making Tordrad strain to push it open.

Whoever frequented this secret area would have to be very strong indeed, thought Dieter. He smiled knowing that a terrible evil must lie inside, ready to be vanquished.

Once they were inside they turned around to a heavy grating sound behind them.

The door spring had activated, drawing it slowly towards a closed position again. Rissandrea allowed fear to spill over and asked, "Do you think we should get out again?"

"Too late for that" said Dieter, "What was the point in opening the thing otherwise?"

Reluctantly she accepted this as the last of the outside light was snatched away. They were in total darkness now.

Several group members breathing heavily attested to the trauma of the situation.

Tobias asked, "Did any of you think to bring a lantern with you perchance?" with a voice that was too smug this time, for everyone's liking, all except Tordrad who wasn't bothered in the slightest.

No one had a lantern or torch at hand.

Rissandrea tried to calm her breathing, keeping it forcefully deep and even.

Maestro whispered a few arcane lines of a well rehearsed spell and nothing happened. Then, as if strained by another presence nearby, the end of his staff gradually illuminated until there was a bright light to see by.

A passage stretched on as far as the light could shine.

"There we go" said Maestro.

Tobias responded, "Yes, very good. First grade college students are taught that one Maestro. But did you notice anything strange about it?"

"Well it worked" replied the wizard.

"Yes, I'm sure that might be strange to you, but anything else? Like perhaps the fact that it struggled to illuminate? There is another power here perhaps, inside the place where the wind of azyr does not blow so strongly. Concentrate, what do you see ahead down this passage? Use the witch sight."

Maestro concentrated with every ounce of his mind, staring into the gloom. The faint purple trail began to appear again.

"Found it!" he attested in an enthusiastically loud tone.

"Shhhhh" came the reply from everyone else.

"Oh." Said Maestro, a little frustrated that this one annoyance to everyone would overshadow his accomplishment of finding the trail again.

Meanwhile outside, the two witch hunters who had been following the group came together at the secret entrance.

One looked at the wall grimly and commented to the other, "I will wait here to see them come out, if they come out."

The other nodded quickly and spoke, "Good, I will get the captain at once. He will want to see this."

The second man sprinted away and didn't find that he needed to part the busy crowds. They recognized his uniform and parted themselves…

As the group proceeded down the rough passageway, it became obvious that it was much longer than they had realised. They were also sloping down at a constant rate.

Wooden plank supports were to be found all the way along both walls, looking very much like a mine shaft in some respects.

An ominous dripping sound could be heard, plip plopping constantly, somewhere out of sight, perhaps through the walls in another section somewhere.

The party's mood for the first time had become unanimously sombre and serious. They were silent as they quickly but quietly made their way along the passage.

They had given each other worried looks when they began to hear a distant pulsing sound. Something deep and powerful rhythmically pressed a pressure into their inner ears, echoing their own frightened heartbeats that involuntarily raced to match it.

With every step they took, they knew that they could be walking ever closer to their doom.

"It's a door" noticed Maestro, as quietly as he could.

Tobias raised an eyebrow sarcastically.

The wizard pointed his staff this way and that and it looked like solid oak all over.

Dieter pressed his ear against the surface and listened. He kept his voice low as he commented, "Whatever is causing that sound is on the other side of the door."

Everyone's face was grim.

The pressure coming from the pulses was irritating their ears enough to be considered painful.

Dieter quite enjoyed the sensation though.

He grabbed the brass rounded doorknob and twisted it. The door was locked.

Tordrad barged forwards, becoming impatient with proceedings. He readied himself side on and charged the door with all of his strength. His shoulder and body impacted hard against it but still it did not open. The centre had momentarily bent inwards under the strain of the impact however and the Kislevite had seen it.

He charged at it a second time, this time with his axe blade positioned directly for the gap that had opened before. As his weight crushed against the mighty door, the gap presented itself again. He quickly thrust his axe into the space, partially splintering the wood in the process but, he had succeeded in creating a wedge now. The extreme edge of the blade was indeed lodged into the door's gap.

He let go of the axe and it remained in place. He smiled with satisfaction and brought his foot in hard against the part of the axe that he could reach.

The kick drove it a little deeper into the wood again.

He kicked it once more. There was a heavy split inside the wood, hidden by the door frame. He braced himself and backed up once more.

With a prayer to Ursun, the father of bears he charged with all his might, looking every bit like a bear himself at that moment in time, Maestro observed.

As the Kislevite's great body thudded against the door, the lock snapped and the axe clattered noisily to the floor.

It was a testament to the weight of the wood that it had not flown wide open, instead remaining ajar.

Dieter reached his stave forwards and pushed the door open.

Maestro raised his staff to aid in illuminating the room before them.

They stared in astonishment, their faces bathed green from the glow of the strange rough faceted emerald coloured chunk of stone that sat upon a pedestal in the centre of the large room.

It glowed with an eerie illumination to match the pulsing sound that came and went.

"Gentleman…and lady sorry" Maestro began, "what you see before you is a piece of Morrslieb itself - warpstone."

It didn't take him long to realise that his knowledgeable lecture meant nothing. He wasn't looking at a text book somewhere. This was truly in front of him! Maestro had learnt well what powers warpstone contained and its link to the taint of chaos was famous amongst the intellectuals of society.

Tobias too knew of the substance, himself being a scholar and a scribe he had been with the Celestial College since before Maestro was even born.

It was impossible to tell how old the halfling was, but in human terms he would be considered around forty years old.

Warpstone was known to do terrible things to those exposed to it. It could mutate one's cells, making them more chaotic as a result. It was believed among some of the highest scholars of note to be the cause of the skaven being what they were – what they still were even today, though considered mythical they surely did exist, those terrible rat like creatures that walked on two legs like cruel parodies of humanity's grand design.

They looked at each other. There was no turning back.

Tobias took a deep breath and shouted, "Follow me". He ran through the large rectangular room, trying his best to avoid the darkness around him, for the warpstone was the only illumination present, aside from Maestro's glowing staff.

As soon as Tobias had entered the room, the pulsing began to speed up, as did the terrible glowing.

The pressure in their ears was now terrible. Blood began to trickle from Dieter's ear a little.

The others followed close behind Tobias, through the thick and murky pools of darkness that looked like dread tendrils threatening to pull them to the ground between the glowing light source and their own shadows moving rapidly.

Keeping as close to the wall as they could, Tobias led them to a door which was locked! "No" he shouted with panic rife in his voice.

Tordrad was taking no chances this time. Be brought his axe out as he came to the door and brought the great blade against it, once, twice, three times, a fourth, five times.

The pulsing had become alarmingly fast now, with the vile defensive trap's cut switch not activated, it was out of control.

To bring it under control, someone would need to utter a daemonic prayer in dark tongue. Only then would the enchantment upon the stone leave it as a relatively harmless glowing light, as long as one didn't step too close that is.

Six times, seven times the axe bit into the wood, cutting the lock directly out of the door. The Kislevite turned his axe around and smashed the end of the handle straight into the vulnerable section of wood that his axe had disintegrated in several places. There was a clatter on the opposite side as the lock fell through.

Tordrad instinctively pushed the door open and hurriedly fell forwards out of the room.

The sound emitted from the stone was now pulsing at a speed that almost sounded like one long tone to the naked ear.

The others piled out of the room as fast as they could when the warpstone shard exploded with a terrible magically imbued explosion.

Pieces of the jagged substance flew in a multitude of directions. One struck Tobias in the back of the head, for he was the last one out. He had taken a portion of the explosion too which pushed his tiny frame forward and out of the door past the rest of the group, before landing face down on the floor beyond. He was not moving.

Normally all eyes would have been upon the halfling's prone form but there was something a little more distracting for everyone to look at in this new room instead, everyone but Rissandrea that is, who ignored what the others were looking at and knelt down beside Tobias in an attempt at administering aid in any way she could.

The others stared in disbelief at the sight before them. Not even Tordrad could accept was his eyes were seeing.

They had emerged into a filth encrusted underground area, a large chamber that had at the other end of it a wide staging platform with a terrible circular metal ring upon it, large enough for something of gigantic size to step through.

The centre of the ring shaped construct was awash with a myriad of twisting energies in a foul vortex that gave them an uneasy feeling when they stared at it, as if something inside was staring back. However, this did not hold their attention for long compared to the four beings present in the room as well.

Four terrible champions of chaos stood before them, fully armoured and armed.

Nearest to the crackling gateway on the left side was a terrible man who went by the name of 'Tcharzeye of Tzeentch'. His yellow eyes were terrible, in wide open concentration upon the portal before him, like two terrible torches in hell they glowed with a dark intelligent magnificence. His dark grey skin was mottled and rough in places. He seemingly wore a cloak of black feathers. He kept his glowing gem-tipped staff as his channelling focus on the portal. His clenched fist outstretched at arm's length towards the intruders without any other part of him regarding their presence. The fingers of that hand opened to reveal a terrible yellow eye inside the palm of the man's hand! It looked at them cruelly, assessing them as a threat.

To the right of the portal was another foul creature, this time a female.

'Soulflayer of Slaanesh' concentrated with all of her terrible mind focused on the portal. She was perhaps the most experienced of the four. Certainly she was the oldest. She was beautiful beyond compare. Even Rissandrea had to admit her splendour was on another level, like that of a Goddess, she thought, then realised her blasphemous thoughts and fought them off to continue treating the halfling.

She was divine in her terrible beauty. She too held a staff in one hand, using it to focus channelling energies on the portal. She had six arms in total. The others lay at her side peacefully for now.

Down on the floor closer to the group on the left side was an oversized monster of a man, a clear foot taller than the six foot five height of Tordrad! His muscles were so large that the blood vessels inside his skin could not handle the strain and had broken in several places. Here stood the mighty 'Bonesaw of Khorne', his grizzly name seemingly derived from the saw that hung from his belt, though it was not his weapon. It had another purpose.

The champion's right arm, shoulder, neck and face on the right side were all effected similarly by the same mutation – accelerated bone growth! His arm was not a recognizable thing, in humanoid terms. Instead of having a hand and fingers, his entire arm area was one large lengthy block of bone that would continually grow, every single day. If he didn't saw it down regularly, it would grow out of all manageable proportion and soon become too heavy to even lift!

What would have been a disability to most men was used as an advantage here. He knew how to make the most of Khorne's dark gift that had been bestowed upon him so gloriously all those years ago.

He would use the saw on his crude limb and carve it into the shape of whatever weaponry he fancied wielding at that time! That is why no weapon could be found on his person. He _was_ a weapon!

The bone rose up at the shoulder, into a jagged needle like point.

The bone of his jaw had grown out of control, bursting through his cheek on the one side. His teeth too had grown as a result, becoming large misshapen cracked stumps inside his mouth. He could barely speak. But again, he knew that lord Khorne did not need men for their silver tongues. No words were needed in his service - merely terrible slaughter, skulls in a trophy pile and blood by the river load.

He attempted to shout at the group, with his booming hard to understand speech impediment, "ZHOOO! AHGHH WREEEEL SHTAAKE YER SKEHOLLS!"

Lastly, equidistant to the group from Bonesaw, but on the right side stood another terrible monster of a man: The champion known as 'Blackrot of Nurgle'.

His skin was a terrible deathly colour of whitish grey. His nearly bald head had six blonde locks of long hair that ran down from the back of it, each an equal distance along the back of his head. His skin was a thick leathery looking mess all over. This was all the more horrific at his face, with his mouth and lips even covered by the same substance. His rheumy bloodshot eyes dripped a dreadful mucus-like dark green substance that ran down his face casting his features off like a sickening mascara of snot encrusted filth. It seemed that nearly every vein in his body was at the surface, bulging up close but not able to push past the hardened skin of his body. Every vein was pure black in colour, contrasting frightfully against his pale skin tone, especially across his exposed bald head.

Tordrad drew his great axe, raising it in defiance of the taint before him, pointing the weapon at the Khornite champion while screaming a battle cry of, "Do Tor!"

As if in reaction to this, his scimitar seemed to crackle with lightning for but a brief moment. Some part of him that wasn't consumed with battle rage in the face of his most hated of all enemies, must have known that this was strange. He knew that the weapon was not magical in nature.

The Khorne champion, recognizing the challenge roared back a terrible curse in his own language that even the other champions wouldn't understand.

Both men charged each other, looking like two stampeding rhinos about to meet somewhere in the middle.

They clashed. Tordrad's axe lashed out and was parried aside easily time and time again. The Kislevite brought his shield round in time, forgoing his axe to block a powerful counter attack. Tordrad then shield bashed the champion to push off his second counter attack but the impact did nothing to stop the hulking brute this time. It flurried a series of attacks back at Tordrad which quickly overwhelmed the man so that all he could do was raise a shield and concentrate on blocking each impact of solid sharp bone as it tested Kislevite workmanship to the limit.

Then a massive foot came up and kicked Tordrad's shield centre on, with a strength that notched it from the creature's toenails that also grew unstably, out of his armour clad boots.

Even though the shield absorbed the blow, the sheer strength of it pushed the man backwards. He found himself skidding along the ground and almost off of his feet. He kept his balance with a stagger, shaken up at this, the most powerful foe he had ever faced.

If his shield hadn't been there, in all probability that blow would have shattered his entire ribcage, he knew.

He would die in this battle. He knew that too but faced the champion, looking him in the eye with the dignity of a warrior born.

Before he could charge again, this time to his death, he saw that Tobias was quickly standing to his feet once more. He had armed a sling shot with the largest stone in his collection and fired it at Soulflayer.

It hit her in the side of the face, breaking her concentration for a moment.

Her eyes desperately wanted to turn angrily towards the halfling for daring to mark her sensuous skin, but she could not afford to do it. She had to keep channelling the spell.

She screamed something in a high pitched wail and the Nurgle champion Blackrot grunted in understanding. He began to walk towards the halfling, his overweight mass and hideous mouth looking every bit like he could swallow Tobias whole!

Tordrad saw this and was torn between attacking the Khorne champion or Nurgle's one. Bonesaw made the decision easy because he too began stepping towards the group.

Tobias looked on in terror, his little legs were trembling, his sling shot hung feebly by his side, looking about as useful as a child's toy right now.

Dieter had begun moving backwards into the room that had contained the warpstone. He wanted no part of this fight. They had found the chaos champions that the witch hunters would want to see. It did not mean that they had to die to prove their innocence, he thought.

He waited though, to see who would die first at least.

Rissandrea looked around at the situation about them. She saw her allies in trouble.

Her terrified voice pleaded to Maestro, "Do something! Stop them!"

Maestro up until now had frozen to the spot, confronted with true champions of chaos like this. He had never been witness to the real thing before. They were only stories in a book to him – someone else's problem. But now he was that someone else, he and the people around him who he had began to enjoy the company of. He didn't want to see them die. He didn't want to die either. He'd convinced himself that his pause was simply an attempt at preparing his mind to channel a spell. In truth though, he knew that his petty magic lore training would not be enough to stop the threat that lay before him now.

He then accepted that it was him standing in these shoes, truly him. He knew that he had to step up and take this seriously. He had never wanted to be a wizard. He had fought his training at every step. Now more than anything though, he wished he had tried harder and become more powerful. It was too late for that now, he told himself, far too late.

His face became grim. His eyes focused. The purple ring around the grey of his eyes seemed to ignite and swirl. Suddenly the winds of azyr were drawing towards him. His face remained an unchanging mask as confidence took over.

He shouted at the champions at the top of his voice, "WAIT!".

The nearest two champions stopped where they were and looked at the wizard in surprise. He had spoken their language. He had spoken in the dark tongue!

Of the four languages he knew relatively well, that was one of them.

Maestro continued, "You may individually be the champions of your own daemonic gods…".

This got the attention of all four of them, looking at him in doubt that what they were hearing was even true.

The wizard continued, "But we men of the Empire are UNDIVIDED!"

The devout of Tzeentch looked suddenly worried by this statement. Then perhaps as if reading some insight into Maestro's aura shouted, "NOOOO!"

Maestro spoke the arcane words of a spell, directed towards Tcharzeye, champion of Tzeentch. His magical safeguards were in place to protect his body from harm were it to come to that, but there was nothing to protect his staff from a drop spell!

The champion's crackling gemmed staff was suddenly torn out of his hands. It fell downwards and impacted against the floor with an echoing clatter that was replaced in a half second by the shattering sound of glass! The impact had shattered the energy filled gem on the end of it.

There was a huge surge of magical backlash that swept up and swirled into the vortex of the portal itself.

A huge silhouette of a winged beast could be seen taking shape inside the great magical opening, but as soon as the exterior energy struck the portal's centre point it exploded, ripping the ring apart in three places, sending twisted white hot metal flying across the room, followed by an explosion that engulfed the entire chamber, including the four champions.

The party were pushed back by the massive explosion and magical backdraft that knocked them all off their feet into the other room.

Once the smoke had cleared, there was no sign of the champions at all.

Quickly they stood up. Those who were stood up first helped the others to their feet.

Tordrad helped Dieter to his feet who quietly thanked him. He had after all fallen into him to knock him down in the first place.

Dieter was internally surprised. Somehow the wizard had done it. Had done something anyway. He couldn't believe this group had actually won the fight.

He was just glad that this "adventure" was almost over so that he could get rid of them. He worked better solo and being heroes like this attracted too much attention from the higher powers. As it was he had been forced to restrain himself, with the witch hunters being around as they were.

Very little was said as they returned back up the passage as quickly as they could.

Once they hit daylight from the secret door's exit, an entire squad of witch hunters led by Malvanius came into view.

Maestro noticed for the first time that the witch hunter captain wore a particularly eye catching signet ring. Upon it a crossed sword and hammer were depicted across a background design of the twin tailed comet of Sigmar, with the letters O and F inscribed upon it. He was sure he had seen this design somewhere else before…

Quickly the group explained what had happened and half of the witch hunters ran down the passage in a sprint.

Malvanius nodded his head very slightly, clenching his jaw in consideration. Yes, he thought, there was something special about this group...

Two hours later they were finally free from questioning. The witch hunters had gathered the proof they had needed to corroborate the group's story, but there had been no sign at all of the chaos champions themselves, save for the broken remnants of the golden staff that Maestro had spelled out of the Tzeentch champion's grip.

It was even decided by someone in the higher ups of Altdorf that a reward of gold crowns would be bestowed upon them, for saving the city from, by all accounts daemonic outbreak.

From their statements, it sounded to Malvanius like the first daemon to step through would have been a greater daemon, perhaps the avatar of Tzeentch to help summon more, quickly.

Decisions were being made as to what everyone would do next.

Tobias had taken his leave from the party first, heading back to some official place or another to deliver a report about Maestro.

Maestro himself knew that he would have to leave the city by the quickest means possible to avoid getting into any more trouble. He vowed that he would not make the same mistake again and spend just "one more night" in the city.

This city had stunted his growth as a wizard. He had become too fond of safety, of comfort. The tutors and his own master held the same opinion, that he would flourish better out there exposed to real danger, where he would be forced to cast spells and need to get them right to save himself, rather than the placid threat of yet another test failure. He had become all too used to them over the years.

Tordrad of course would have to go with him, he knew. The Kislevite knew that he was worth more money than the wizard was paying him, but when he had arrived in Altdorf seeking work as a hired sword, he had been demoted to the lower brand of payees simply because he couldn't speak Reikspiel. Maestro should have ended up with someone less skilled than he, he knew. The wizard didn't know how lucky he was, having a man such as he as his bodyguard.

When he knew he was leaving to wander the wilds alone, Maestro naturally decided to hire some protection. Though he had come from a wealthy background, his family's money had run out.

The last of his coin had been spent on tuition fees for the College, bizarre oddities that Maestro had a tendency to waste his money on and the very last of it went on hiring Tordrad, making sure to pay him a good long while upfront so he could worry later about re-hiring fees.

Rissandrea too had to leave the city. She had been instructed to study, to learn the world and give aid to those who needed it as were the foundations of her order.

She sensed a grave darkness in the future of mankind and knew that her duty lay somewhere there, wherever war might bring suffering. This wizard, she knew, was on a path of conflict, a road that led through great affliction. She wondered how much of that affliction and suffering might be at the wizard's own hand! Then there was the fact that the daemonic gods knew of him now. They must surely be angered…or impressed.

When she heard that Maestro and Tordrad would be leaving the city by river barge, she too decided that this would be her route. Destination anywhere, she told herself. She wouldn't necessarily disembark when the wizard did. She would just be present so that she'd have the choice to do so, when the time came.

Dieter made his excuses and left the group, explaining that he would concentrate again on becoming a doctor and aiding the city in that way…It was nearly night he thought, he had better get home and get some sleep, before Morr's gazing eye was about, looking for him in the night sky as he always did. He did not doubt that.


	5. Chapter 5

Their Fated Travels…

By Robert James Freemantle

Chapter Five

Trial of the Gods

Tordrad, Maestro and Rissandrea sat together at the Altdorf docks passenger ticket office/waiting area.

This was the fastest, safest way to travel, Maestro reckoned. He hoped he wouldn't be proven wrong.

A staff gate opened on the far side of the area as two men came through, carrying a heavy looking piece of luggage.

Rissandrea double took at the man walking backwards with it. It was the drunken Marienburg man she had seen going into the Two Headed Goose last night.

So, she thought, he's on my barge too…

Maestro had Tordrad in between he and the Shallyan initiate but still he would sometimes look across at her nervously.

Tordrad was sporting a new set of armour - High quality plate that he had obtained with his recent earnings after averting the daemonic outbreak. It was a shiny buffed silver colour from head to toe.

The armour had already been for sale but his request for bear engravings at the breastplate, elbow joints and knees had been easy to achieve for the master armoursmith he had chosen in the capital city here. The helm was reminiscent of a bear's head in some respects, with the visor having a bear's jaw style of design engraved and painted into it. The upper part of the helm was taller than normal helms, like the upper head of a bear, giving him an appearance of grandeur and ferociousness.

It wasn't long now, Maestro thought, until I say goodbye to the city, perhaps forevermore.

They waited.

Emperor Karl Franz sat in his office, considering the paperwork in front of him.

The College Master's halfling was due at any moment and this appointment couldn't wait.

A prompt knock on his door from one of the Emperor's staff confirmed the halfling's punctuality.

The Emperor requested, "Come in."

The door was held open by a Palace attendant as Tobias entered, bowing low as he did so. As soon as he was inside the room, the door was closed again.

Karl Franz was in no mood to mess around, "Sit down, please" he asked.

With a bow, the halfling took a seat opposite, across from the great desk, a place where legendary, world changing meetings had been conducted.

So wide was this desk that it could seat eight people wide at it. Tobias looked miniscule against the massive antique.

There was silence for a few seconds, punctuated only by the precise ticking of a nearby wall clock before the Emperor began, "Herr Wilwart. You had been assigned the case of Maestro Rophel Illefescion. I read your reports of last night's and today's happenings. Most interesting. But this will be the last night he spends in my city I trust?"

Tobias answered respectfully, "He assures me of such, Excellency. Even now he waits at the river barge terminus with ticket in hand. He, the Kislevite and the initiate girl."

"Ah the Shallyan, yes I read her report too." Added the Emperor. "She is a not quite the usual type that we would see in our Temple here."

"If I may be so bold," began Tobias, "she is a member of a sub sect of Shallyan faith. They have certain _additional_ scriptures that even the main branch consider somewhat overzealous."

Karl Franz considered these words, as if every little piece of information about Maestro's case was important somehow and said, "On the subject of the wizard, if he is not gone by morning, he shall find himself in a jail cell at my pleasure."

His words seemed cold, even to Tobias who wasn't particularly fond of Maestro. He didn't understand why. This must have shown on his face when the Emperor certified, "The man is dangerous, more than he might ever know."

Tobias thought back to the initial reports on Maestro that he had been privy to. They had dated back to when he was just a boy of twelve years old…

Seventeen years ago…

Young Maestro was an ambitious boy, the son of a financial adviser in the Palace of Karl Franz himself. He was a noble of steady wealth. He had a comfortable life. His family's money allowed him the opportunity to seek the life that he wanted, to work in the field of specialisation that he desired.

What the boy desired most was to be an engineer. He could always be found tinkering with things, taking them apart to understand how they worked and putting them back together again.

He used to create his own gadgets too - Small, wind up contraptions that spun or moved along the ground in some way, bizarre devices that could fly for a short while if thrown and others like this.

One day however, the life he thought he would be living changed forever without warning.

His performing arts troupe had been set up inside the Palace throne room, putting on a play for the Emperor himself and his gathered guests.

Naturally being a noble born boy, he had been tutored in the thespian arts too, from a young age.

During a particularly emotional song and dance number, the boy gestured sorrowfully with his hand, outwards towards the Emperor himself as if to further hit the dramatic point home. As he had done this, a ball of lightning energy shot from his fingertips and flew towards the throne! It had found its mark, knocking the Emperor's famed helm clean from his head, sending it clattering noisily to the floor.

The audience and actors had gone completely quiet, so quickly so that the final rolling of the helmet across the shiny stone floor could be heard by everyone present.

Maestro stared in horror. First at his hand, then back to the Emperor, whose head was now exposed!

The guards were moving in with weapons drawn, believing it to be an attempt on the Emperor's life. Before they could reach the boy however, a wizard grabbed him by the arm that had fired the spell, holding it downwards to the ground. He spoke the following words to Maestro, words that he would never forget: "As you leave your youth behind you, a wizard manifests in its stead. You will come for training, boy."

The courtroom gasped in surprise at the orange robed wizard's assertion.

Maestro had replied, "But I do not want to become a wizard, I'm to be an engineer."

The wizard had smiled and replied, "Of those who display the gift for channelling the winds of magic, most would call it as much a curse as a blessing. But make no mistake, an untrained person with magical attunement in their blood will be set on a course to chaos! Do you want to become a chaos spawn? Do you, boy?"

Maestro didn't even know what a chaos spawn was but answered, "Not particularly no."

He had noticed that the wizard, while serious in what he said, had a kindly face. His eyes glowed a strange orange colour, his hair was blonde with streaks of orange permeating through it. He wore a multitude of keys about his person, like jewellery.

"Not particularly?" answered the wizard, to the spectacle of the crowd gathered, "It would be a matter of time" he started, as his appearance and size seemed to grow to Maestro's eyes. His eyes were focused and for the first time frightened the boy as he continued, "Before the ruinous powers have at you. Those who show the skills of wizardry but refuse to train, or those who try to run away or train illegally outside of the college, they are considered to be hedge wizards…outlaws, sentenced to death."

Maestro had listened to what the wizard had said but one word stuck in front of his eyes, like a tattoo on his retinas: death.

"Alright…I'll choose the not me being dead option I believe" came Maestro's reply in the end, reluctantly, with sorrow secretly in his heart.

Not that the crowds cared, they murmured and tittered from the excitement of it all, while Karl Franz positioned his helm back upon his head, a concern of worry on his face.

Seventeen years ahead again…That same look of concern held true to the Emperor's dour features.

Tobias asked, "Your Excellency, you don't surely mean the day he first discovered his magical abilities do you?"

The Emperor looked at the halfling with some surprise, "Of course I mean that day, to some extent at least. He knocked the helm from my head, Herr Wilwart. I have been in countless battles, fought on the front lines against the ravaging creatures that seek to ruin mankind, to leave the Empire in flames and not one of them, not one had ever unhelmed me!"

Tobias raised both eyebrows at this. He knew that there was more to this story than the Emperor was letting on. However, it wasn't like he could press the issue so he dropped that line of thought there.

"I wish to conclude our meeting by saying this," began Karl Franz, "You have performed well in your duties for me, but I would have you personally see to it that Maestro is gone on that river barge tonight."

Tobias bowed emphatically, "Of course your Excellency." was his response.

"The only way I can be sure of it, is for you to depart with him." The Emperor added

The colour drained out of the halfling's face.

The Emperor continued, "You are to travel with him now, on his journey of self discovery, seeing as you so excellently dealt with our own internal problem together."

It was clear that Tobias was not taking the news of this very well at all.

The Emperor added, "It has already been arranged. Your College Masters and I agree that it would be for the best. Also, you would be serving a second purpose for them…"

Magnamus, Maestro's master, had come to the docks to see them off. They were about to board the barge as the kindly but somewhat unstable master wizard clapped his hands around his student's shoulders. "Perhaps this will be good for you, eh Maestro?"

"Perhaps" came Maestro's sullen reply.

His master continued, "You always had such great potential. Do you remember how you were top of the class, amongst the apprentices? You picked up the first spells quicker than anyone I had ever seen. Quicker even than I when I was first starting!"

Maestro nodded sadly.

Magnamus continued, "After that though, something went awry for you. It is clear that this is the only way for you to advance now, and remember, if you do not, Tzeentch is waiting to steal away the ignorant. You do not want to spend an eternity covered in bird droppings do you?" Maestro had seen all the bird droppings he could stand in one lifetime, often being forced to clean the great telescopic lenses of his college of them for failing tests and exams. Magnamus continued "Or worse still, you could become a chaos spawn!"

Maestro rolled his eyes at Magnamus's one hundred thousandth "chaos spawn" routine, or so he felt.

Suddenly, the old man's face took on a serious expression, "Maestro…a Chaos army, the like of which has not been seen in hundreds of years has entered the Empire. The reports you will have heard about the invasion are far more terrible than we have told the public. The Emperor himself rides at the column head of his army, leaving today to join the fight. I have been called upon to aid his forces. Archaon the Everchosen comes to wreak great vengeance upon the people he used to call his own. He too used to be a human, like you or I. It is another terrible example of the power that chaos holds over the souls of all people. Always remember that, even with the best intentions one might still find a path to chaos."

Maestro looked sombre at this, "I…I should have been there to stand by your side shouldn't I?" he asked.

"Perhaps", answered Magnamus, "But you are not trained enough to come to the front lines. You would not be allowed in any case."

Maestro looked down to the ground shamefully.

Magnamus continued, "Don't worry. We will do everything we can, but we are fighting to preserve a future, Maestro. If we succeed, you and your generation need to stand ready to take the flaming baton."

"I will learn, I swear it" promised Maestro.

The kindly old wizard put a hand on Maestro's shoulder, "I know you will. There is more inside you than you even realise" before giving Maestro a knowing wink.

This made the apprentice wizard think and worry. He hated the thought of responsibility but knew that it was also unavoidable in this case. Therefore, he would be better prepared and better able to survive the trials to come if he took at least that fact seriously, he decided.

Rissandrea smiled inwardly at the touching moment between the two.

Just then, they were joined by Tobias, wearing a fully packed backpack.

"Tobias. Come to see us off?" asked Rissandrea.

"Not quite" replied the halfling. With a heavy sigh he continued, "I have been instructed by the Emperor himself to attend to your training…"

Magnamus added, "I was wondering what they would do about that. Ah yes, that makes sense now."

Tobias continued, "Normally your master, Magnamus" before bowing respectfully to the master wizard, who returned his bow with a slow and purposeful nod, "would accompany you on your training to attain the journeyman level. However, there is your unusual little…problem as well isn't there?"

"Well" started Maestro, "I saw a doctor about that and it turned out I was just sleeping on the wrong sort of mattress and…"

"No Maestro!" came the halfling's incensed reply, "Your magical problem. The issue of your empathic channelling. Were the great Magnamus," again the halfling and master wizard repeated their bowing routine, "to accompany you, sooner or later it would effect your own spell casting. You would be drawing power from his lore, not your own…" Tobias couldn't even believe he was saying this, it truly sounded strange that a student could suffer these effects so strongly. He continued, "It would then not be a demonstration of your powers to certify passed or not, would it? It would be a foreign influence. I am trained in the magical studies of Heavens, Maestro and I have no magical channelling whatsoever. I will be your assessor, making notes and ultimately it will be my recommendation that decides whether you are ready or not for the next level of wizardry…"

The last point he had made quite smugly.

Maestro hated the fact that he would be accompanied by the halfling. This was terrible. He didn't like someone looking over his shoulder, or trying to on tip toes at the very least, watching his every move, waiting for him to do something wrong. His stomach filled with dread on a whole new level, at the thought of this journey.

Tobias continued, "After a further consultation with my fellow masters at the College, it has been decided that the rules governing the future and fate must be obeyed. Therefore, I am strictly forbidden to make suggestions that could effect the decisions you make. Your fate and ultimately your success of failure must be wholly of your own doing. You may ask of me what you will. My knowledge is yours. I will fight if my own life is in danger, but in no way may I influence your decisions. Is that understood?"

Maestro said, "Yes." quite flatly in his tone. He thought the entire thing sounded ridiculous, but then that was to be expected from the Celestial College. They knew things about the future, the entire basis of their methods was based on the understanding of cosmological fate. He realised that having this thought of non-understanding of the order, made him stand out even worse as an apprentice, but luckily he had said it internally. That didn't stop Magnamus smiling at him wryly though. Somehow his master was often able to read his thoughts. He knew him better than anyone, in fact. Even his own mother and father…oh his parents, he was leaving them behind in the city too…he had at least had a chance to say his goodbyes to his father…

Morrslieb was large in the sky, larger than normal. It looked every bit like it was ready to assault the larger moon, Mannslieb at any moment. It was a foreboding night. something in the air was different.

Darkness encompassed everything, everything save for a small candlelight that could for all the help it gave be a mile away.

The light increased in intensity and size until it became blinding, filling the small room which from further investigation turned out to be a doctor's laboratory-cum-sleeping quarters.

As his eyes slowly adjusted to the room's illumination which seemed to dim, adequately illuminating the surrounding area, his shadow began to extend until it was three times the length of his body – an unusual event, given the source of the light, a small oil lamp on the wall.

A light and somewhat scratchy whispering sound filled the room and his head, radiating through his body and into his soul. He began to make out words within the scratching sounds and as he did so, they rose to a cacophonous white noise. White noise with no specific sounds but teeming with thoughts, feelings and sensations of rage, distrust and deepest dark desire for something long lost.

As he tried to pull together his mind, to sort between his own thoughts and those belonging to the "other" his eyes became drawn to his shadow on the wall. Oddly it had lost its angular upwards bend where the floor met the wall at a right angle. The overall shape had become clearer and more defined. It fully formed into a black spectral figure of his own height and build before his very eyes. He had been dreaming but he was unsure if this was happening for real or not.

The figure before him had no features, save for two glowing red eyes, as if lit by the fires of some long forgotten dimension of chaos.

Suddenly the manifestation screamed at Dieter with a voice like dry leaves being blown by the lightest of winter breezes, "You! You did this to me!" Its spectral finger pointed at him in accusation.

At once, as if on cue the room began to transform around him.

No longer was he standing in the house. He found himself in the centre of a large circular roofless auditorium, surrounded on all sides by massive pillars that seemed to stretch all the way up into the Heavens. Massive stain glass windows depicting key moments in history were set upon the walls at evenly spaced intervals, showing between the pillars. He could feel some presence watching him from all around, like an audience of expectation in all directions. He felt just like a slave awaiting his fate in a gladiatorial arena. He could see no door out of the area. The floor was made of a smooth marble. The clouds were close, as if he were high up, away from anything. Higher even than the uppermost mountain peek in existence. He felt so unworthy, so small. He hated that feeling and hated whoever had brought him here for making him feel that way.

Suddenly it seemed as if the pillars began to transform. Their shapes were becoming definable, recognizable even. They were becoming statues of people…no not people, he realised, Gods!

He looked around him and recognised the gods set into the stone, their stern unmoving features were somewhat like those he had seen in books of religious study yet they were a little different too, he thought. If this was his imagination, surely he would have seen them in the way he recognised them.

None the less, he saw the appearing forms of Shallya, Verena, Morr and one he did not recognize. He could feel that others were present but they had not showed themselves yet.

The Goddess Verena, a woman of dignified serious disposition carried a sword in one hand and held a pair of scales in the other was first to speak, although her lips did not move, "_**Dieter De'ath**_, _**you have been summoned here to answer for crimes you have committed against nature, against Morr himself**_."

Dieter was in resignation. His body slumped in defeat before the statuesque apparitions before him. It must be night. He'd overslept…damn, he thought.

Morr's gaze was upon him. He was a tall man, with an aristocratic air about him and a darkness was visible in his eyes, though a statue, he could feel the piercing intent of harm from the God as he spoke next, "_**You stole him from me! He belongs to me, as must you all in time."**_

Dieter staggered as this voice boomed out aggressively at him with a supremacy that threw him off balance. He realised that the shadowy form connected to him had tethered him in place, binding Dieter at his feet where his body met the dark humanoid shape.

Morr continued, "_**By the rites of justice, I demand to take this one's soul and the one he keeps from me.**_"

The glorious statue form__of Shallya, whose eyes were large and caring, set into an innocent face with several tear drops depicted running down her cheek interrupted, "_**And by those same rights we are here to decide this one's fate. You of all people should know of fate, father, showing it in dreams to your most worthy of followers."**_

"Well…and me" Dieter said quietly, but not quietly enough. Morr's tolerance was strained to its limits as he snapped, "_**You only see those things because of the embodiment of your sins, of that which you restrain unto your flesh, of that which is unnatural, against the law of nature. Your very existence is an aberration to the order of balance."**_

Verena spoke, "_**It is not your place to decide on judgement, husband. Regardless of how foolishly he chooses his words."**_

Dieter did not dare speak his mind, after the last time, he kept his thoughts internal, "Oh great, a lovers tiff and a problem child, that's all I need."

A forth voice chimed in. The God he did not recognize, in the form of a large bare-chested man with wild hair, wearing a loincloth and bearing a spear. He spoke with a deep gruff tone and accent that reminded him of the Kislevite he had recently travelled with. "_**Perhaps it would be better to defer to the wisdom of the lady here. Her compassion should inspire a balance of reason in you."**_

Shallya commented at once, "_**Thank you for understanding, Ursun. I would bring to light now that this man has no compassion in his heart. He has acted solely for himself. The punishment should therefore fit the crime."**_

There was silence. Dieter could feel his own heart beating in his ears as Morr was first to speak again, "_**As always daughter, you impress upon me a truth that I had not seen. You get your wisdom from your mother. Very well then."**_

Verena, the Goddess of learning and justice spoke decidedly, "_**Then before those gathered here, by the laws which bind us all, I pass sentence upon thee Dieter De'ath of Stirland. You have lived a selfish life, thinking only of yourself, leaving others to ruin in your gain. You will soon learn what it is to care for another's well being, mortal. The four that you travelled with since this morn were impressed upon your future, whether you wish it or not. Now their fates too will be impressed upon yours."**_

With those words, Dieter felt a searing pain burning into his chest, like a hot branding iron against his naked flesh. He restrained a scream and pulled his shirt aside to look. Upon his chest he had been marked with the signs of a dove, a bear, the rune of Azyr and the "Wilwart symbol" of a black rose inside an alchemy vial, Tobias's family crest.

Verena continued her sentence, "_**When the last flicker of life leaves the eyes of the final member of this group, so shall your soul be forfeit and belong to Morr, when your sins shall be answered for. I have spoken. So shall it be."**_

The pain in Dieter's chest became suddenly unbearable. He clutched himself in agony, bent double as his surroundings began to swirl out of focus around him. He clenched his eyes shut to stop the unfolding scene making him vomit and then…then all was normal again. He opened his eyes and could see that he was standing inside his house once more. His legs were shaking, his breathing unnatural. He tore aside his shirt and looked, expecting to see the branded marks. In truth, he had expected nothing though, that this was a dream. To his horror however, he saw the proof that it had been all too real. There upon him were the crests, deep in his skin.

Quickly he buttoned up his shirt, packed a few supplies and thought: Which way were they leaving again? Ah yes, by the river.

He ran, in desperate haste, as if the fate of everything rested on him being on that river vessel in time. The chaos moon shone mockingly in the sky above him. He almost stumbled and kept himself upright by holding onto a nearby couple. As he ran on, he heard their shouting complaints behind him. They were not his concern. He concentrated his thoughts on finding the shortest route possible.

The river barge was beginning to pull away. Maestro, Rissandrea, Tordrad and Tobias waved to Magnamus and was that? Yes, Maestro's father had appeared to wave him off. He had made it in time for one last goodbye, albeit from a distance.

Dieter had jumped over the ticket office barrier and continued past the guard stationed there. There was a shout of complaint from the nearby staff, as Dieter threw a handful of coins on the floor behind him. That should be enough, he thought. He could see the barge now. It was too late! It had gone out too far. No, there was still a chance. It would pass by the city bridge up ahead but he knew he would have to beat it there.

He ran with all his might and there he saw a horse. It belonged to a soldier who was preparing to leave for the war. Dieter ran past the man, took up the beast's reigns, put a foot into the stirrup and deftly hoisted himself upon the horse. Upon landing, he immediately brought his boots hard into the creature's flanks, pressing it into action in one fluid movement. Now he had a chance. He ignored the angry threats from the armed man left standing behind him. He didn't matter.

As the group watched the barge passing through the city scenery, Tordrad spotted a very strange sight indeed. He pointed and said, "Dieter."

The others looked and saw that quite unbelievably, Dieter was riding a horse through the city keeping apace with the barge as it moved. He pressed the great creature forwards. It was beginning to pick up speed, but the barge was moving away at a different angle now, putting yet more distance between them.

The bridge was coming up soon. Dieter drove the horse forwards, knocking a few people down in his haste. They didn't matter either. Soon he was at the bridge. It was almost too late. He jumped down from the horse, looked and saw that the barge beneath had already disappeared to the other side of the bridge. He turned and ran blindly, with no idea if he was going to make it in time. He closed his eyes and jumped. He dared not pray. After his experiences with the Gods, he did not want to involve them anymore.

With a crash he landed, on something hard, firm. Water was not firm, he thought. Had he made it?

He opened his eyes and saw the scenery of the city was moving past him, even though he himself was not moving. He was sitting upon a cargo container, high atop a pile of similar ones. Everybody present on the barge was looking up at him.

He stood up, clambered down from the crates and boxes until he reached the deck where he casually brushed himself off, as if he'd meant to do it all.

The group had arrived at him.

Maestro was first to speak, "Hello Dieter! I thought you weren't coming with us after all?"

Dieter shifted awkwardly on the spot and rubbed his still sore chest through his buttoned up shirt, "I guess you left an impression on me." He said, and walked along the deck with them to take a seat.

It was going to be a long journey…


	6. Chapter 6

**Their Fated Travels…**

By Robert James Freemantle

Chapter Six

Barge On Through

Book 2

Extract from the diaries of Maestro:

Day 1

'Tis a fresh new start. I'm sure that whatever the fates have in store for me, I shall find the way to keep them appeased, or the College master accompanying us at the very least. Yes I think it is him I should worry about the most. It makes me nervous, him watching me all the time. It isn't natural. As danger has found us when I want to scream and run the other way I look at him and realise I cannot.

Taken from the diary of Tobias:

Day 1

I hope my wife understands. Who am I kidding? She is probably over the moon, to have some peace. In truth, so am I.

That Dieter fellow has joined us all of a sudden, but why? First he seemed so cold, now he says he missed us being a group. Could it be that he hides his good feelings on the inside? I don't know, he is too hard for me to read, like no one I have ever known. Perhaps I am reading too far into it, I suppose the extra help can only be a good thing.

Dinner with everyone else tonight.

Dinner was fantastic, lobster. Perhaps we will get sick of it every night. They seem to have a lot of lobster here.

Day 2

Uneventful day.

It is a beautiful night tonight though. Not that I have a telescope to enjoy it to its fullest. Maestro should be studying the stars though, for his training.

…Lots of people on the deck tonight, looking overboard…looking the other way. Their backs are turned to us. It would be so easy. Yes it would.

Confined myself to the bedroom for the night though. I can't think why I would have done that, but I can't find the damned key anywhere. I need to get out. I need to roam and see all.

Day 3

When I awoke I knew where I had put the key. How very strange. It was indeed hidden though, as if…from myself. The only reason I even knew that is based on the writings in this diary which appear to be my handwriting.

Taken from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 4

Everyone is enjoying the lobster.

Maestro still seems bothered by me somehow…

I have not seen much of Tobias in the evenings. Perhaps he likes to meditate in the quiet hours.

Extracts from the diary of Tordrad, translated from Kislevite:

Day 7

I am sick of lobster. Nearly every day, lobster.

Journey is boring.

Need to fight something. Feel better then.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 10

I felt a little queasy and threw up. I think I am perhaps sea sick.

Extract from Tobias's diary:

Day 10

That moron Maestro has eaten too much and been sick. Who does he think he is? A halfling?

Extract from the diary of Tordrad, translated from Kislev:

Day 10

Starting to go crazy from boredom.

Maestro stuffed his face full of suckling pig and then he was sick. Weak southerners and their gentle stomachs. For all the good living and weight they carry upon them you would think they'd be used to it. They cannot hold their drink either.

The wizard gets drunk just from smelling my vodka. He is a stupid man. Worse still, I must risk my life to save his.

From the diary of Dieter:

Day 15

Maestro is on deck every night, looking up at the stars and back down to his lavish looking tome. I can tell it is filled with arcane language.

When he is not doing that, he is busy meditating. This is unlike him.

From the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 16

The war is about us, on all fronts to the north and yet we trickle towards it instead. I feel redundant. Truly I should be there to help the sick and wounded. Shallya guide me where you need me. I shall have faith in thee, dearest one.

It is good to see Maestro taking his study seriously. I see him mediating each night, concentrating his thoughts on something up there in the cosmos, something the rest of us certainly cannot see. Perhaps he may yet be a great wizard one day. I would like to see that.

Onwards their vessel took them. The barge had been forced to a halt several times, for vast armies to pass across improvised plank bridges so that they might aid in pushing back the chaos forces that besieged the land. Then there were the priority barges that required the usage of the river's full width of several at once, to move up it with soldiers and supplies. Aid had to be brought to key places that the river could reach safest.

All of this meant that the journey up river was taking longer than they expected. However, it wasn't all bad for them as it had allowed them to get off and walk around several habitats, towns and villages.

As they continued, on their oft broken part journeys onwards, they were pushing further north all the time, following the river deeper and deeper through Middenland.

One thing was becoming clear though, the further north they ventured – they were coming closer to the presence of the chaos armies.

Several burning buildings and fields had been spotted beyond the riverbanks as they watched from the relative safety of their barge.

They did not know how far they were going to go. Maestro had suggested that they depart when it "feels right". Some of the others mistakenly thought that this was just a wizard being mystical, giving great insight for the others in a subtle manner, as they had heard wizards would do. They were wrong though. Maestro had no idea what he was doing.

The normal monotony was broken on the seventeenth day however…

Dieter was having a conversation with Maestro, talking about the cosmos and the true significance of the star constellations. Tobias was doing his best to pretend that he wasn't listening in when of course he was. The topic was fascinating to him too, being studious in the celestial teachings of astronomy as he was. Maestro had studied the subject a lot during his apprenticeship. He carried with him a beautifully bound grimoire of spells, in a book that made him look like a master wizard, albeit without the years, or indeed the robes. He did not fully know any of the spells in there though and this was why he was studying when he had the chance.

The truth of the matter was that he could probably cast some of the spells to a fashion. Some of the lesser ones for sure and perhaps some of the celestial ones, but it was ill advised. He had not yet mastered the weavings of the spells, their complex patterns that one would have to traverse and manipulate with the proper tone and pronunciation of the arcane language, a language that originally hailed from the High Elves and perhaps the Old Ones. Maestro was not comfortable with that fact. He and elves didn't…get along most of the time.

One wrong word from him though, one mispronounced vowel and the entire spell could backfire dangerously. Therefore, attempts at the full spells were strictly forbidden. They were given only passages to practice in separate pieces. To be on the safe side, they were practised out of their original spoken order, just in case an apprentice would get a little carried away and speed through his elocutionary exercises.

As they continued their conversation, Dieter began to get an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. He momentarily considered if it had been the seafood but realised otherwise. It was a feeling he could always rely on, usually indicating that something bad was going to happen. It had never been wrong. When he mentioned to the others that something was wrong, the look on his face and their own instincts of his seemingly sixth sense convinced them to take him seriously.

Maestro volunteered a suggestion, "Perhaps an octopus is assailing us."

"I doubt it. It hasn't happened yet. But whatever it is, it's about to. I feel like something is coming, something with murderous intent. It's the intent I feel, burning with hatred."

Tobias's mouth was open in shock and surprise at the sort of words the man was using here. The implications were serious.

Dieter's head suddenly turned to face the front of the vessel. His eyes narrowed and he spotted them coming, pointing his finger that way, "Goblins coming on rafts, towards the bow!"

Maestro saw them too, at last. The element of their surprise had been lost. Tordrad had heard the shouting and looked to Maestro. The wizard told him, "Goblins".

"Aaaaah" came Tordrad's reply, his face joyous with the news that he would have the opportunity to kill greenskins again."

Quickly they ran to the bow, where Dieter's alarmed warning had attracted the marines aboard the barge. Specialist soldiers hired specifically for the defence of the vessel itself. Better that insurance would pay for itself in this way than a recuperation of monetary value for goods afterwards. After all, if you lost your life into the bargain, what good was it then?

The first grappling hooks clanked against the side, digging into the wood where they bit. Marines began pulling them off from the edge surface. This was only making them drop back down to the goblins that had thrown them however and more were arriving by the moment.

They were trying to think of a better plan when there was a huge jolt. The barge had hit one of the raft raiders dead on, knocking the inhabitants clean out, as they sank to a watery end and still the barge pushed forwards.

A squad of goblin had made it up on deck, having ridden alongside the barge unseen. A man attempted to fight them with his walking cane and a boot dagger, while his dog barked and jumped into the fray.

The dog had quickly mauled one of the goblins as the man and a goblin stabbed each other in unison, neither were skilled enough to avoid the other's attack. As the goblin fell overboard, so did the man with him, unable to move from the pain of his stomach wound that had already bled heavily across the deck. There was a huge splash as together they hit the water. Several thumps confirmed that they had been sucked in under the flow of the vessel's movement.

The dog, a Doberman of good size barked and growled as more goblins took to the deck and surrounded it with hungry murderous intent in their intelligent keen little red eyes.

Dieter was first to act, seeing that the marines already had their hands full elsewhere. He ran in best as he could and swung his stave, growling as ferociously if not more than the dog had been. Together they pounced and a goblin was sent to the deck only to be mauled as the animal tore apart his prone form. Dieter swung the stave repeatedly to keep the goblins back and backed up so as not to be overwhelmed from a joint attack if it came. "Here boy" he called to the dog, who seemed to understand the threat and move back with him. More marines appeared at last and took the fight to the goblins, pushing their lifeless bodies overboard. All eyes turned to the very front of the ship. Lots of hooks were attached. Goblins were climbing the ropes that would lead them to the deck.

Maestro spoke the words of a 'drop' spell. At that moment, the goblin he had targeted felt compelled to let go of the rope he was holding, falling down it instead and taking another with him as he fell.

Tordrad charged forwards and beheaded the first unopposed goblin he came to. He kicked the body overboard and turned to meet the next head on. Blood gushed outwards in a foul smelling spray as his scimitar cleaved another in two at the chest.

Tobias hurled pebble after pebble, hitting a few goblins, dazing them long enough for a marine to run them through with a sword.

Maestro spelled another goblin that attempted to climb. It too dropped the rope it was holding and fell to the raft on the other side of the rope, capsizing it from the impact. More goblins were in the water. Arguments broke out between them on the water's surface with several strangling each other as they floated next to their rafts.

Rissandrea saw the marines about to be overrun and reached into her robes where against the inside layer she wore a leather holster. From it she pulled a gun! It was of a beautiful craftsmanship, spectacularly fashioned, ornamentally pleasing to see. She took aim, squinting one eye. Her finger squeezed the trigger. At that moment, Maestro felt a sudden energy surge in his surroundings, something powerful. His eyes were drawn to the gun Rissandrea had fired. It shot with a satisfying meaty cracking sound, as a trail of white energy, a projectile with a tail giving the effect of a tracer round flew from the barrel straight into a goblin's face. His entire head exploded. Rissandrea took aim again as several goblins panicked, worrying that they would be next. Dieter stared at the spectacle in as much shock as the goblins, who were scattering around the deck getting behind each other.

There was suddenly a hulking slam as large green feet landed on the starboard deck. The group's eyes took in the terrible sight of an orc. It had used the distraction caused by the goblins to climb aboard unseen.

Great green hands appeared against the port side railing as another orc was nearly up on deck.

Maestro readied his staff in case it came to having to defend himself. Tobias's pebble shot bounced off of the left side orc's head, with him being none the wiser. Rissandrea's gun however was more decisive. Another great cracking boom sound erupted from the barrel as the holy imbued bullet slammed into the orc's chest, making a smouldering hole right through him to the other side. Tobias ran and should barged into the great beast. Somehow this was enough to push backwards its already unsteady frame, as it fell overboard into the river below. Blood quickly pooled up to the surface, like an underwater volcano erupting.

Tordrad had heard Maestro's frightened reaction and came over to face the orc brute. It struck out wildly at him. The huge Kislevite, larger than the orc parried the blow and brought his foot to bear against the orc's belly. It doubled over in pain and shouted in frustration. With it exposed, Tordrad accepted the invitation and sliced its head clean off of its shoulders. So powerfully had he struck the creature, that the orc's head had rolled down the deck towards the bow and halted in a position that faced the goblins.

They took the dead orc's fearful expression seriously and began jumping overboard. It was up to the marines to mop them up now.

If Tordrad even had of been able to speak Reikspiel he still wouldn't have listened to Dieter's shouted suggestion of, "Perhaps we could keep this one alive to question him."

A short while later when they were certain that no more attackers would be coming, the group were talking amongst themselves.

Tobias had been staring at Rissandrea strangely. She caught sight of this and said, "Oh not you too, what is wrong with me then?"

Tobias looked suddenly surprised. He blushed a little and spoke, "I was not aware that my expression of concern gave me away. Well perhaps I should explain. I am somewhat confused by your actions in the fight we have just been in."

Rissandrea took him seriously and awaited what he would say with interest. It was as if she didn't know. Tobias was taken aback by this too as he started, "Well, you are an initiate of the order of Shallya. This I understand. But don't the scriptures say that a devotee of Shallya must wield only a quarterstaff and then only to defend herself. Therefore I do not understand why you pulled out a gun and shot it. Not that I am being unthankful…simply you have piqued my academic curiosity young lady."

Maestro chipped in, "A magical gun at that. Those were no normal bullets, I must say. A fine piece though."

Tobias looked at Maestro as if he too was barmy. That fact was perhaps the more sound idea but still he was more intrigued with what the holy woman would have to say.

Rissandrea drew the weapon once more and inspected it, turning it this way and that to admire the engineering of it as she spoke, "Well I am a little different to what you might be used to."

Even Dieter was interested by this point and was listening in, pretending that he wasn't.

Rissandrea continued, "Do remember, I am of the Vhor sub-sect of the Shallyan faith. We are taught that to carry arms is no sin against Shallya. To use them wrongly though, that would be."

Maestro seemed genuinely confused and asked, "So, picking your nose with the barrel end would be against Shallya?"

Rissandrea stared at him and didn't even answer. She continued, "Murder is indeed a heinous act, to steal away all a person ever was, all they are and all they ever will be."

Dieter rolled his eyes at what he considered to be the rantings of a lunatic at that moment in time.

Rissandrea continued, "But against evil souls. Orcs and goblins who are by nature evil, a living plague upon the land, against chaos daemons or those daemonically imbued, those who are tainted beyond repair, those are souls without salvation. Those are souls beyond rescue. Shallya teaches that we should be merciful to our enemies. Ending lives such as these is itself a mercy unto them."

Tobias stared in shock. Truly this woman was unusual. So meek a little lady, in her purest of white robes yet with a capacity for such destruction when confronted with pure evil. Everything Tobias had ever known about the churches was being challenged here. It made him uncomfortable. Nobody liked change, especially halflings.

Rissandrea smiled as she put the gun away into its holster and informed them, "It is indeed a magical weapon. Its name is Redemption. It was once owned by a legendary witch hunter: Albrecht Schuher. His life ended from disease, but still I carry a token of his faith on my person. Still the idea of his work will go on, where I see fit."

Just before leaving Altdorf, Rissandrea had stopped into the famed curio shop 'Zuchi & Petrillo's' where she had bought the weapon.

Dieter was leaning against some wood paneling and without even looking he asked, "And of the sword you carry? Perhaps Emperor Magnus once lanced a boil with it?"

Rissandrea gave Dieter a scowling look. He ignored it.

Rissandrea suddenly became overcome with sadness. She looked down to control herself, lest she start crying. Within moments she felt ready to speak again, "This sword…this sword belonged to a Breton. A questing knight who stumbled into my arms dying of a terrible wound. I…did all I could but Morr's pull upon his soul was too strong for me. I took his sword as a reminder of the first life I lost. As a reminder to always seek to improve myself so that it may never happen again. It will always remain as I found it, in its scabbard."

Dieter had uneasily shifted on the spot at the mention of Morr's name. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but the sigils in his chest felt like they burned a little too.

After that, the group sat quietly and listened to the world around them as they began to journey through scenic woodland on either side.

Three days after that, they had been forced to disembark. The barge captain had been informed that it was unsafe up ahead. That the armies of chaos were not far away and the route by river to the north was greatly contested.

They had no idea where they were, but it was obvious that it was in or near the Drakwald Forest region…


	7. Chapter 7

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle

_Based on the __2__nd__ edition WHFRP game chapter of the same name_

_This story contains spo__ilers for that book's adventure_

Chapter Seven

Through the Drakwald

They quickly discovered that the barge had taken them to Untergard, a town in the eastern region of Middenland, somewhat south of Middenheim.

As they walked from the small docking area, they saw the horror, the carnage that had been wrought upon the people. A terrible devastation had visited upon the town recently. The bridge across the river had become a focal point in the chaos incursion. Khazrak, the powerful beastman warlord of the nearby forest had marched his armies to claim this critical point. If captured, it would have been a successful further entry point towards Middenheim.

The allied armies of order had assembled and turned the little town into a battlefield of epic proportions. Thousands of soldiers had fought desperately to hold the bridge at any cost.

They had won, driving Khazrak's army north towards the main city instead.

The bodies had now been cleared away, but still people sat wounded, buildings were damaged, spirits were low, their faces were pale and their clothes were ragged and torn.

The storm of chaos had brought this place low.

Rissandrea was horrified and did not know who to help first. Before she could decide, a commotion from up ahead made the five of them walk over to find out what was going on.

A huge crowd of people had gathered to watch as one Captain Gerhard Schiller, a grey haired veteran in his fifties stood up on an upturned box and began to speak, "People of Untergard, this is a glorious day. I have received a letter from Count Todbringer of Middenheim. The old wolf still lives and the city of Middenheim also stands strong."

The crowd cheered and the captain motioned them for silence. They obeyed, obviously respecting him as a veteran of their people.

He continued, "Count Todbringer sends his thanks to all of Untergard for the part we played in hampering the invaders. He said, and I quote, 'The battle for the Untergard Bridge will go down as one of the most glorious battles in Middenland's history'. Be proud, people of Untergard, for our sacrifices have not been in vain!"

When the cheers died down the man continued, "To show his gratitude for our valour, the count has sent us a token of his appreciation."

The captain reached into a bag and pulled out a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine. "We were honoured to receive thirty loaves of bread and a dozen bottles of wine, straight from Middenheim."

The crowd cheered wildly, the sight of food was a marvellous thing for them, after all they had been through, with their food supplies running low.

Suddenly there was a loud crack and the bottle smashed, showering glass over Schiller and the rest of the bread.

"That was a…gun wasn't it?" asked Tobias.

As the crowd panicked and rushed to escape the coming threat, Dieter's eyes were fixed, looking out at the great stone bridge itself. The others turned to follow his gaze. They saw a group of mutants advancing on the people, assorted weaponry in hand.

As the mutants came closer, the group could see that that one had tentacles instead of arms, the second had horns and thick fur, the third had a pig-like snout and the fourth had a third eye in the middle of his forehead.

Maestro ran with all his speed towards the bridge. Even Tordrad was surprised at how quick the wizard could move if his life depended on it. Maestro took cover against the left hand side of the bridge, where the stone was thick enough to keep him out of sight.

Tordrad drew his hunting bow, notched an arrow and calmed his breathing. Tobias shouted, "Bloody mutants…pardon my Bretonnian…" as he readied his slingshot and ducked in case of another shot.

The Doberman that Dieter had rescued appeared by his side. With its master gone, it seemed to think of the would be doctor as its new owner.

Tordrad's arrow was unusual, tipped with a bulbous end. He fired, loosing it off towards the enemy as they reached the bridge at last. It thudded directly into the chest of the first mutant and exploded on contact. The creature was set on fire and flames around the bridge spread to the next one, burning it badly. Still it came, with the others behind it. Rissandrea stood beside him and considered the situation.

The Kislevite fired again. Another direct hit, this time into the creature's leg, felling him as the resulting explosion on contact tore the limb straight off. The others were burnt in the eruption but still they came.

One passed off of the bridge. Tordrad drew his axe with lightning speed and charged towards it. The mutant thought twice about attacking but decided it was too committed now.

As the second mutant passed off of the bridge, Maestro's staff lashed out and struck it to the knees. His attempt to trip it was unsuccessful, but it had staggered forwards a little. The Doberman sprang forwards grabbing the mutant's head in its jaws and shaking it about this way and that. It was left prone, bent over.

Dieter smiled at the sight commenting, "Good boy, that's brain food" as he ran towards the mutant and hit it in the back with his staff. The dog finished him off.

Tordrad had his mutant on the ground, on top of it overbearingly. His axe handle choked the thing to death as its eyes bulged and its tongue fell out of its gaping horrified mouth.

Extract from the diaries of Dieter:

Day 20

The Doberman has chosen me as his pack leader. I am honoured to lead him. He fights well for me and he has a keen intelligence beyond that which I see in others of his kind. We have an understanding.

I did not know his name so I have named him. From now on, he shall answer to the name of Ulger.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 20

We were fortunate enough to not be harmed by the mutant attack. Captain Schiller was pleased that we were present, thanking us personally.

Another person appeared who was intriguing to me. She called herself 'Granny Moescher'. I could tell that there was something unusual about her. The way she skilfully helped to heal some of the wounded citizens, I considered that perhaps she was gifted as my own mother had been.

After that, a woodsman named Hans Baumer had entered the town, with a sorrowful group of people in tow. People who had fearful eyes. They carried their possessions upon their backs. Refugees and survivors.

Extract for the diary of Tordrad:

Day 20

Hans Baumer, the woodsman. He is brave man. Saving those who wandered the forest without home.

Then he told of beastmen army, over two hundred strong, coming for Untergard. Someone in the town had translated for me.

I want to fight, though the seventy five or so people left would perhaps be killed if they try to hold the town. No army in sight to save us. I hate to run, but I agree with the woodsman that we should.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 20

By all accounts Grimminhagen just up the road has had it bad as well and would offer no aid. In fact, when I suggested it, everyone shifted uncomfortably and looked at me like I was a beastman.

I am not yet skilled enough in the ways of magic to read the future of this town, but I do know that if two hundred beastmen assault, there will be no way to hold them off.

We all agree that we should leave.

When captain Schiller agreed too I felt my worries evaporate away…for a little while at least.

Dieter's diary:

Day 21

I am loathe to turn my back to any enemy, but I do not feel that we should die just to save a town that has nothing to do with us. It was agreed that we would leave this morning. I mean to see it happen. I will not allow foolish heroics to get in the way…

From the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 21

Everyone took what they could carry. Every worldly possession that means anything to them as we accompanied them on their journey north.

Perhaps the skilled fighters of my group will offer some protection were they to be attacked.

Granny Moescher walks with her band of orphans, those children she looks after personally. Her heart is filled with good intention yet the others seem concerned about her. Maestro told me that he tried to feel for power emanations. He said he felt nothing. I told him that this was surely a good thing. He disagreed, stating that there was a difference between feeling no power and feeling absolutely nothing. He suggested that it was if she was putting up a block, very unusual in a person and a suggestion of power in itself. He went very quiet at this and spoke to Tobias at great length.

It seems the halfling collegiate scribe is quietly satisfied with Maestro's progress. He isn't telling him that though, I can tell. He doesn't want Maestro to begin resting on his laurels. He feels he is lazy and unmotivated after all.

Tobias's diary:

Day 22

Herr Schiller has organized the citizenship into impressive marching columns, with a front point, rearguard and flanking units on our march through the forest.

It was an obvious choice that we would not be able to take the most direct route to Middenheim, through the Drakwald Forest itself. That would be akin to suicide, with the beastmen being strongest there.

Day 23

It is slow going. We must keep pace with carts and the children of course are sometimes unruly. I'm not particularly keen on children. I am happy to leave them being someone else's dirty faced problem.

I have been marching with the front columns. I was picked as one of the first watch lookouts last night. It's the strangest thing: Come morning my coin purse was stuffed fuller than it had been. I also had a lot of jewellery nearby, as if someone dumped it next to my bed. I asked if any had belonged to the people and they stepped forward to claim their items. I am not sure what happened. Perhaps some weak attempt at framing me.

The area is war torn. All over I can see evidence of battles and blood stains. This war is truly more terrible, epic in size than anyone had realised. Even I had not been notified about the severity of things in northern Middenland.

It is said that if Archaon breaches the city of Middenheim, he means to step into the flame of Ulric. I have heard it suggested that such an action might bring about godhood in him.

These are dark times indeed.

When we get there, if we get there, I hope that buffoon Maestro stays away from it. I don't want him accidentally falling backwards into the flame. I don't think I could live in a world where people worship him as a deity.

…The news is at least confirmed, the battle for Middenheim is over. Archaon's forces by all accounts are retreating. Hopefully they are not retreating straight for our path. Theoretically they will retreat eastwards.

The way to Middenheim should be improving with every day. Wonderful timing.

Dieter's diary

Day 23

Later today we arrived at Grimminhagen. The captain led us around the ruins. This place has been struck even harder by the touch of chaos. Who knows what other atrocities we will see as we journey ever further northwards.

Extracts from Maestro's diary:

Day 23

The people of Grimminhagen would not relent and allow the refugees entry into the remains of their town. When war has been upon them, still people find a way to hate each other. How fitting it is indeed that chaos should be the threat to humanity; chaos is in itself the product of man's darkest desires manifested against his fellow man.

I began to have my suspicions about Granny Moescher. They were heightened still when it was discovered that she had disappeared from the camp. Schiller wanted her found, as she was their best healer…

Hans Baumer had helped the group find the old woman's trail. As Maestro stared at the indented footprint, a strange thing began to happen. The entirety of it, the space where the old woman had placed her foot glowed with a faint dark amber colour.

When he explained this, Tobias replied, "Your magical senses are improving at last Maestro. Amber or brown is the colour of beasts, of the arcane winds of Ghur. Now you can see them, follow it Maestro."

The wizard stared ahead of him and saw more footprints begin to light up faintly. It was enough of a trail in the dark for him to lead the way.

Dieter watched the wizard go about his tracking, mental discomfort clearly on his face. He secretly worried about the wizard's potential power and how it could interfere with his way of doing things.

It only took ten minutes for Maestro to find the way to her. What they saw upon arrival made them tense up.

Granny Moescher was standing in a forest clearing, a bundle of medicinal herbs in her hand, noticed Rissandrea.

The old woman stared in surprise at three wood elf warriors, with bows trained upon her.

The leader spoke, "Explain yourself witch, or my arrow flies true."

The old woman replied, "Don't be so foolish, the elder races are supposed to be wise. I am simply gathering herbs for the people of Untergard".

Dieter recognised the herbs too, but decided to remain silent. He was also aware of a darker use for this particular herb.

Rissandrea spoke up, "I am an initiate of the Shallyan order. Hear my words. I have used such herbs as these in curative treatments of the sick. The woman is telling the truth."

Gilmir, the leader of the squad allowed his hard expression to soften, but still his bow remained sighted on its target.

He began, "She has the smell of magic upon her."

Maestro couldn't bear being in the company of elves. He truly disliked them. There had been some unfortunate incidents in the past that had led to this. Though his strife had actually been with their Ulthuan cousins, all elves were now a problem.

The others of his party could sense it. They had never seen him like this. Anxious yes, worried indeed, serious and contemplative sometimes, but never agitated. They didn't know what to make of it. The elves noticed it but perhaps thought it was just the usual rantings and bizarre ways of a wizard.

Maestro had begun, "Excuse me, yes elves, hello? Yes here."

One elf's bow pointed towards Maestro. He was a little taken aback but continued, "Yes, well you see I am a wizard of the Celestial College." Maestro looked them in the eyes, authority and self importance beaming.

He continued, "That woman has the wind."

The elves looked at each other then back at Maestro. Even Granny Moescher turned to look at the wizard. Maestro saw the confounded expressions on their faces and quickly continued, "No, she has the brown wind…no that doesn't help, I see in her aura the lore of Beasts, not dhar."

The elves recognized this. Their own casters harnessed the lore of beasts as well. They lowered their weapons upon hearing this.

The leader of the warriors spoke, "I have been leading my kithband in hit and run attacks against the invaders for many weeks. Now we are only encountering small bands and stragglers. She could have easily been one of them."

"Perhaps you should be more concerned then" started Maestro, "about the ten score beastmen roaming the southern townships…"

With that, the elves looked at each other and set off immediately to the south.

Maestro looked at the three of them and considered their numbers before adding, "That means a solid two hundred of them…" and shrugged his shoulders.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 24

We came upon a terrible sight. Bodies everywhere, on the road. A massacre along with two wrecked wagons. That could easily have been our group. The woodsman tells us that the arrow hafts are goblin made. Truly this war has turned the powers of disruption onto our heads. Anything could happen now.

Extract from Dieter's diary:

Day 24

I don't like this Granny Moescher. Maestro and Tobias feel the same. I overheard them talking about it. If I see one false move from her…

I wish I could do something pre-emptively. No, they would never accept any explanation if I did. I have to stay with this group…

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 24

Granny nodded at a nearby bird. It was as if she were communicating with it. I believe she was. But what message or plan might she have? I am nervous, I must admit. The surge of her power is now revealed to me. She is powerful. More powerful than I. She kept repeating a name to herself when she viewed it at a signpost: Fahndorf.

She mumbled something about her family dying there.

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 24

I have been watching this woman. Through information she has given away, I have determined that she is over a century old. Of that which she refers to, it is beyond the time of the others…but I know of it…Any power that can prolong a person's life like so cannot be a good thing. Once we arrive at the city, I will report her to the watch.

From Tordrad's diary:

Day 24

The priest sigmarite had been blessing the dead when he too joined them. I heard scream and he fell down out of sight. Impaled on spikes. Must have been hidden goblin trap. He did not take long to die. Said something in his language to the others. It is our new mission now I think. I climbed down to retrieve item he held up.

From Rissandrea's diary:

Day 24

Poor Father Dietrich! I have prayed for his soul as it left this realm. With his dying words, he made us swear to deliver a holy relic to Middenheim. The Temple of Sigmar. We of course agreed and he died in peace at least. I am not yet powerful enough to save a man from such wounds. Perhaps I will never be.

Dietrich's last words were, "Praise the Heldenhammer" and with that, he was gone.

The holy icon we now carry is a small painting of Sigmar. It looks old. Very old.

From Tobias's diary:

Day 24

As we pressed on, our escort's scouts came upon Immelscheld. The town was sacked, with survivors in a terrible state. We made temporary camp in the ruins just outside of the town. We are almost there.

Maestro's diary:

Day 24

We made camp while supplies were fetched. I saw what I had feared I would see. A black raven flew from the back of old lady Moescher's caravan.

The raven is a sign of ill omen. 'Tis a mark of grim deathly purpose. 'Tis the grim poise that emerges to take a life.

Tordrad's diary:

Day 24

I thought I would get rest. No chance of that, with the wizard idiot shouting, that we leave with him now.

Tobias's diary:

Day 24

Maestro alerted us to the old woman's leaving. We set out in the direction the bird was seen flying. It meant retracing our steps for two hours, back to what is left of Fahndorf, on its outskirts.

We soon discovered that the old woman was about a terrible business. Revenge! For her family lost. Her ritual, a summoning, meant to kill those she sees responsible in the town.

Maybe we will have to kill her. She will perhaps have some expensive amulets or the like to claim as my own.

When the group finally caught up with her, having followed the smell of "arcane burning" as Tobias had put it, they saw a terrible sight. In the middle of a clearing stood Granny Moescher, completely focused on an incantation, a ritual, Tobias pointed out.

A massive bonfire was before them. Some strange shadowy essence interacted with it. It became clear that it itself was the focus point for the ritual, as the old woman spoke words, the flames licked from one colour to the next. Some terrible daemonic visage could be seen inside the fire, getting clearer by the moment.

"A portal to the daemonic realm" said Rissandrea, discomfort clear on her face. She had grown used to the feeling of exposure between the physical world and the chaos realm. As the two interwove and blended their synergies into one space in time, her skin felt as if it was bleeding, as if something good in her power was being challenged and torn from her. It was as if her holy spiritual defences were being flayed sadistically by some invisible hand. She ignored the pain, it was part of her duty; she just instinctively knew that somehow.

They stared at the flickering flames that cast reflecting hues across their faces and then their eyes adjusted to the brightness of the fire to focus enough on the pack of wolves that circled the old woman, defensively it seemed.

Tobias spoke aloud, "She cannot be allowed to complete that ceremony. It is a portal to the daemonic planes, something terrible is forming inside it!"

Tordrad drew his axe. Maestro looked around worriedly at the many wolves before them. No, Tordrad would be mauled, he thought.

Dieter's dog snarled, showing its teeth and Dieter said a few words to calm it, then patted it and said, "Good boy, Ulger".

Granny Moescher did not seem to know they were even there. Maestro realised that it took the old woman's full concentration to maintain the portal and he picked up a stone ready to throw it at her. He stopped suddenly and handed it to Tobias. "Tobias, fire at her."

"Yes, good idea" said the halfling. He popped the sharp angular stone into his slingshot and hurled it forwards without hesitation.

The image inside the flames was now so clear, that its ferocious snarling teeth could be seen. Maestro fancied that he could smell the thing's breath even from where they stood!

The stone hit the old woman directly in the cheekbone and temple.

With the ritual interrupted, the old woman fell to her knees, surprise was clear on her face. At that moment the fire spluttered as the creature inside the flames shouted something in anger. Suddenly the bonfire exploded, in a myriad of colours and aethyric energy.

The blast took in the prone body of the old woman and the wolves around her, scarring the earth. Her last words were, "I am sorry father, I failed you".

A huge draft of energy wafted against the group as the magical trails that only Maestro could see spun around and whisped eventually into nothingness, like the embers of the fire itself. Soon even the bonfire was out.

Maestro picked up the grimoire that the old lady had carried. It was quickly clear that it contained the commands of dark ritual magic she had been using. The wizard put the book away in his backpack. Tobias stared at him sternly, "You are making a mistake Maestro."

Maestro talked back to him, "I know what I'm doing".

On the twenty seventh day of their journey, they did at last see the Ulricsberg looming up ahead of them. Atop the huge imposing rock sat the impressive sight, the famed great city of Middenheim, still standing strong.

The flags of the Emperor and Count Todbringer flew from the battlements.

The damage from the invasion was clear, most striking from the mass graves everywhere. The walls were damaged on the surface only. Some of the city seemed to be ruins, even from this distance. The enemy's war machines had taken their toll.

The war was clearly over though. Perhaps they were looking at a brighter future, wondered Maestro. Then he remembered that such an idea didn't fit the course his fate had taken so far. Yes, he thought, it will probably only get worse in fact.

They hurried on, through the gates into the now pock marked city of the white wolf.


	8. Chapter 8

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle

_Based on the __2__nd__ edition WHFRP game chapter of the same name_

_This story contains spoilers for that book's (Ashes of Middenheim) adventure_

Chapter Eight

Rats In The Walls

Extracts from the diaries of Rissandrea:

Day 27

It is heartening that our first stop is the holy temple. Perhaps we can meditate on the weeks that have passed and take stock, to better understand what has happened to this country.

The refugees are safe. The orphans have been delivered. All is well. Our mission was a success.

The temple of Sigmar was smaller than I expected for a city of this size. Not so surprising perhaps, with the deity of most worship being Ulric in this city.

Extract from the diaries of Tobias:

Day 27

We delivered the holy icon to a Father Morten at the Temple of Sigmar. He believes the likeness to their God in the picture is unusual enough to have been drawn from life, based on the costume Sigmar is wearing.

Well, if it keeps them happy, that is a good thing.

We were paid a reward for the find. Though my coin purse is fit to burst anyway. I can't imagine why, but for some strange reason my personal wealth, that which I carry on my person is increasing by the day…

It would be foolish to complain I suppose.

Diary of Maestro:

Day 27

I'm not one for all this religious malarkey, but I kept a lid on it, for the sake of the others…well even for the sake of myself. They would call me blasphemous! Just because I don't want to worship a load of Gods that they tell me to worship.

People have been telling me what to do all my life and look where that got me?

The thing that bothers me most about these Gods is that they used to be alive, they used to be us. That cannot be a God! That's like saying I could do some great deed and be remembered as a God afterwards. It's a memory, of an ideal or an inspirational lesson.

The politicians will bend anything into a cause, if it means uniting in faith…or perhaps that should be - controlling the people. It is perhaps more like a stealthy martial law. Especially when you look at the witch hunters...

But no, even the dwarf Gods were once living amongst us. Powerful heroes of no doubt, but they have passed from this world and it is surely only their memory that people worship.

I do not think mortals should be bestowed with such veneration.

Next thing you know, you are revering them before they are dead. Then you have a dictator on your hands…

Still, I cannot explain the miracles of Shallyan faith for example. Just what are they harnessing I wonder?

This will require some further investigation at any rate.

Oh, I also handed the magical tome that Granny Moescher used to make the dark ritual, into the Priest at the Temple. When he asked why I brought it there, I said that they can burn it in whatever holy fire they wish to…all I knew was that I did not want to throw it into the flames of that great fire, or what was left of it. I would perhaps only then be giving back the ancient knowledge to the ones who probably created it and "inspired" it to a follower somewhere who would write it.

Dieter's diary:

Day 27

I was glad to get away from the Temple. It was sickening to my stomach to have to stare at idols that draw so much worship. So much wasted time.

At last we were free and about the city, then my heart sunk when I saw the city watch approach us…

Diary of Tordrad:

Day 27

All the guards want to do is talk. Take us away and talk. Better I not understand what they say. Better I think of mead and meat meal next to warm tavern fire soon.

Soon I rest. Long trip.

From the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 27

The city watch commander, one Ulrich Schutzmann wanted to ask us some questions about the beastmen we encountered in the forest.

Then there was a knock at the door and a note was handed to the commander…

Dieter's diary:

Day 27

I bloody knew it! I think I'm part of some sick joke of fate.

It turns out that while we were being de-briefed, news came through of Father Morten's murder.

We were the last ones to see him alive. Oh, that looks wonderful for us!

Thank you very bloody much, Morr. I know it's you doing this. What next? Will you send countless assassins at the group to kill them off too?

What stokes my fire even more is that they asked if they could take our weapons from us. I was about ready to give him my machete in a way he would not have liked, but I wouldn't have gotten away with that anyway.

As it turned out, the others negotiated another play.

It was agreed that we would "assist with enquiries."

Wonderful…

From the diary of Tobias:

Day 27

Here we go again. There's no rest for the wicked. Or Maestro. Or those who keep company with him. Unfortunately I am the latter and am now embroiled in this new mess.

We have been issued with warrants to conduct investigations into this case.

We gained entry to Father Morten's quarters and there saw his body slumped over the desk.

Dieter managed to identify the cause of death. A poison tipped dart in the back of the man's neck.

The icon was of course missing.

We brought the evidence back to the commander. When we told of the strange scratches we saw on the window sill, he confessed to us that there had been other murders too. There is nothing to easily tie them together of course, the three other victims. The commander did tell us of the ratmen however, the skaven. He believes them to be more than just a myth. He believes they are behind this.

Extracts from the diary of Dieter:

Day 27

The cause of death in each case was a poison tipped dart. On closer inspection, I believe the green substance coating the darts is a warpstone derivative.

Again, this is perhaps more proof of skaven involvement.

Somehow I know I have encountered the ratmen before, but I can't…I can't remember. Like so many of my memories, so much of my past is unknown to me.

Travelling with this group is at least stimulating my mind enough to help me remember some things.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 27

One of the murdered fellows had a grave for us to visit. The gravestone bore the same mark upon it that I saw on Malvanius's signet ring.

Dieter's diary:

Day 27

From the scene of the third murder we found blood that trailed towards the sewer. Of course we went in…

Tordrad's diary:

Day 27

Sewer smelly. No room to stand.

Tobias's diary:

Day 27

After pressing further into the sewer, we saw a shape ahead of us in the gloom. It became aware of our presence as we did of its. It was a skaven, dressed in black.

I cannot remember who, but one of us shouted the potential danger of more poison tipped darts in such a confined space.

Maestro did something quite interesting. He cast a 'sound' spell, to imitate splashing feet all the way along the sewer tunnel, thus throwing the would be assassin off guard. The group managed to close the gap and silence the foul creature. At once, its body began dissolving into liquid.

As we pressed on, we came into a common area where six very surprised rat people stared at us in terror. They did not seem as astute as the creature we killed in the tunnel before. Nor did their bodies dissolve when they died.

We made very easy work of them. One of them fallen from a pebble I slung into its mouth. It had swallowed it and choked to death.

Amidst the fighting, a cloaked assassin type skaven set about us. Tordrad was very fast on the uptake, luckily, cutting the creature off from the rest of us before cutting the creature to bits as well.

Truly that Kislevite is a skilled fighter. He tore through the skaven like they were paper. Even the leader of them, the assassin one looked like a child fighting a man.

Maestro managed to blast one's leg off with a magical dart. Rather impressive. It fell over and bled out.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 27

Ulger got a good meal from the rat people. He is learning fast. My training with him is paying off already.

Following that room, now piled with bodies, we a small quarters ahead. I got a terrible gut feeling about entering the room however and noticed a trap. A crossbow had been rigged up amongst the rubble opposite the rough hewn opening, with a tripwire across it to activate its mechanism. A nasty surprise for any intruders not canny enough to avoid it.

I notified the group and the Kislevite cut through the wire to force activate the bolt to fire. It still almost hit the halfling…

Oh and I hate Tobias. I hate all short people at any rate. I even say so aloud. What can he do about it? Nothing. There's something about the halfling that just winds me up wrong.

Every time I think dark thoughts about him though, the damned marking on my chest feels as if it burns a little. It is probably only psychosomatic.

When we stepped into the chamber beyond, we saw an ancient shrine to the dwarf God Grungni. He is apparently their God of mining and construction. How ridiculous! Yet more short people. Luckily I don't have to put up with one of those in the group as well.

Rissandrea's diary:

Day 27

An eventful day. My powerful blessed gun 'redemption' spoke aloud to the skaven of the sewer. It had reduced one of them to a smouldering pile of ash atop a pair of crude shoes.

Again, skaven are beings of chaos. Beyond saving. I did redeem their sins with a fair trade, their lives.

When we left the sewer, we brought back to the commander the only evidence we could find, the gold frame that the icon had been in. The picture part itself was nowhere to be seen.

There are many unanswered questions at this point, but for now, some well deserved rest. After the journey we just endured through the forest getting here!

Tordrad's diary:

Day 28

Head hurts. Drunk lots. Ate lots. Woke up middle of day. Happy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle

_Based on the __2__nd__ edition WHFRP game chapter of the same name_

_This story contains spoilers for that book's (Ashes of Middenheim) adventure_

Chapter Nine

The Shrine in the Forest Part 1

Extract from Rissandrea's diary:

Day 31

We have rested for four days now in the great city, doing our own thing in the days and coming together again for the evening meal.

We are staying at a reasonable inn. We at least have our own rooms. The money made from the last few weeks of adventure have allowed for that. It seems that a good coin will be made if we continue this path.

Money is ultimately of no good of course, but perhaps I can refurbish my church. It could pay for more travel costs so that our priests may spread the word of compassion and healing even further abroad, more often.

I have taken these days to concentrate on self improvement. I have practiced the focusing techniques the holy mother showed me.

I am like a container. With each lesson I learn, I grew that bit larger. Though I am empty for now, once I am filled, I shall hold more knowledge than if I had not trained.

I must stay on this path, for I feel that much more suffering is before this group.

There I shall be.

Extracts from the diary of Tobias:

Day 31

We have been summoned to the great Temple of Ulric. Our deeds against the skaven, our mission to recover the artefact have not gone unseen.

Maestro's diary:

Day 31

Not another temple!

Now then, this is what I was talking about previously. How ridiculous religion is. For example, Sigmar means very little to the temple of Ulric, for the devotees of this city mainly see the white wolf. Yet Sigmar when he lived also worshipped Ulric…

Extracts from the diary of Dieter:

Day 31

I am unsatisfied.

We have done much as a group, yes. Seen much. Killed many. I feel so empty inside.

I am incomplete.

I need it my way.

Prepared just right, to satisfy.

They want to spend the evenings with me. My legs are as good as tied at the ankle right now.

Still there is much I don't remember. What have I unlearnt I wonder?

Who am I? Who am I truly?

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 31

I have no idea what they are all saying, but it sounds like we are going out on a mission again!

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 31

I greeted a senior priest at the temple, a Father Ranulf in my official capacity as a representative of the Shallyan order.

The rest of the group were happy to let me represent them.

There we also met a blind priest, Father Odo.

It was explained that Father Odo has had a terrible vision…

Maestro began laughing at that…

He described a huge stone standing on some grass, covered in bones and skulls, like trophies adorning it. He says that blood began to drip down the stone and there was an earthquake like effect. He saw the ground crack open and a black armoured warrior was suddenly there. The warrior bore the crest of the blood God. He said that around the great warrior's neck was a horned skull, made of brass. He saw red light pour from its eyes and he swears it spoke to him, saying, "I shall be free."

Perhaps a terrible omen of something to come. It seems that the temple wishes to hire us to accompany Father Odo so that he may attempt to find the place he saw in his vision. Perhaps the Gods have given him warning to prevent a powerful artefact of chaos from emerging into the wrong hands.

I have agreed to aid him, on our group's behalf. When I told them, only disappointment did I see in their eyes. I told them to have faith, that the Gods are showing us the way to root out evil on their behalf.

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 31

It seems that the priest believes this huge stone to exist somewhere in the Drakwald Forest.

It looks like there is no getting away from it. We are to go back in. I have a very bad feeling about this. I cannot shake the feeling that someone somewhere is lying to us. Only by being the willing pawns it seems will we find out. Let us hope that when or if we do, we are not at too much of a disadvantage to do anything about it.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 32

Father Odo is a nice enough man, but something troubles him in his sleep. He is restless, at odds with something. From seeing this, I do not believe he is lying to us.

Tobias is different too, not just tonight though – every night. Something changes about him. It is concerning. The way he stands, the way he walks, even the way he talks. He has taken to wearing strapped leather armour under his robes. At night, he sheds the robes and wears only the armour. Only when the moons are out in the night sky. Something about his manner is more abrasive, aggressive and intolerant at these times.

On the thirty-fourth day of their travels (the third day of this particular trip) they came across broken trees and bushes. In the distance they could hear canine snarling and growling accompanied by the distinctive whinnying of a horse. They quickly made their way to the origin of the noise.

There they saw a pack of wolves circling and snapping at a beautiful but strong horse, doing its best to defend itself against the attackers.

The horse was barded but had no saddle. Red war paint that had decorated its entire underside had been smudged and nearly completely rubbed away. Some traces of it remained though, as crimson patches on its skin. It was almost completely white in colour save for the few solid marks and speckles of black on its lower legs and a black marking across half of its face, like a mask. Upon its garb was the sigil of the bear, the same Kislevite symbol worn on Tordrad's full plated armour.

Tordrad saw this and charged headlong forwards with a roar of bloodlust that the others had never heard before.

His axe lashed out and began cutting wolves that turned their attention to him. Quickly the others moved forwards to support his attack. Ulger set upon one wolf and quickly got the better of it.

Rissandrea did not fire her gun. Such opponents were not evil enough to warrant its use. She instead stood her ground and prayed.

Maestro fired magical dart shots to keep wolves at bay. They were not greatly effective but they stopped him getting surrounded.

Dieter smiled, a maddened blood lust took him and something the others had never seen in him before. Another strange thing Tobias noticed was Dieter's shadow. It seemed almost too angular, like branches extending from an evil tree.

Dieter charged forwards swiping skilfully with his stave. It struck the beast to the face breaking teeth. He grinned at it with satisfaction. A machete was suddenly in his other hand. He dual wielded both weapons at once as skilfully as someone could wield just one.

The others didn't have time to take in the intricacies of his combat. They had their own lives to safeguard. If they had been watching however, they would have seen a most strange thing happen. He impacted his machete into the creature's flesh, deep into the shoulder. Then he reached down with his other hand and put his palm across the wound. A terrible smile on his face widened as the animal's flesh seared suddenly where his palm touched it. The wolf howled in distress and Dieter cackled at this. Somehow the skin of the creature had melted, cauterized shut around the weapon with the machete still inside it!

With a yank, Dieter pulled the weapon free from the wolf's skin. The damage was horrendous, matched only by Ulger who had torn the face from a wolf.

Dieter commented, "Okay, who's my next patient?"

Tordrad was skilfully slicing wolves down, this way and that. Nearly every stroke was a kill. He fought in a way that the others had never seen before. Though outnumbered, he used his great axe relying on his agility to keep him from harm. It worked, for he had succumbed to no wounds.

The rest of the pack retreated, now outnumbered as they were. The horse had smashed one wolf's head with its hooves, caving the thing's skull against a nearby tree stump. Ulger was over there, licking at the exposed brain.

Tordrad carefully approached the horse from the front then moved to the side and ran his hand along its body. He patted it, nodded his head with a huge joyous smile across his face as he saddled it with the saddle he had bought earlier. He had been planning on buying a horse…

With one move he was on its back, rested neatly in the saddle. He said a word in Kislevite. Tobias smiled, "That is one word I do know my friends."

Dieter looked menacingly at the halfling, "I'm no friend of yours halfling."

Tobias ignored this and continued, "He said the word 'Avalanche'. I believe it is the beast's name.

Rissandrea looked confused, "You mean to say he perhaps already knows this horse?"

Tordrad understood her question by the tone of her voice and he pointed at the horse then at himself.

Maestro commented, "I do believe you are right Rissandrea, I think that is his horse…somehow."

Tordrad seemed to understand that too and nodded his head enthusiastically and grinned. He patted Avalanche's side and brought it to a marching trot, "Come" he said, in an incredibly strained Reikspiel. The others moved on too.

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 34

Today was best day for long time. Avalanche has returned to me. Like a brother to me, and now he found me. Must have wandered a long way. Perhaps it is our blood bond that tells him where I am. I am gladdened, whatever it may be. I did not want to have to buy another horse, not when one had chosen me all those years ago…

Seven years ago…

Tordrad rode ahead of a column of winged lancers; this was a normal patrol for his unit. They had spent several days on the lookout for signs of any chaos incursions, activity on the borders had increased. Clearly something had been stirring the tribes up.

The night had set in and Morrslieb crudely shone with a dark green light, as if mocking them as the riders made their way towards the nearest stanitsa to take shelter.

At that moment the normally cold weather changed in an instant, to that of something even colder. The suddenness of it was clear as Tordrad's horse, Avalanche breathed a great gout of steam suddenly, looking every bit like a dragon in miniature.

The blaring of a horn caught the rota's attention and they turned to face the sound.

On a great snow dune some distance away was a score of chaos marauder horsemen.

As these men of primitive battle urges charged down towards Tordrad's cavalry unit from all around, the eyes of man and beast glowed the same green colour as the moon.

In retaliation Tordrad let out a cry to his men in their native tongue, "Fall back together, don't let them flank us, then we crush them."

As he said this, one of the lancers was hit in the chest with a throwing axe and a wall of flame erupted from the ground behind the rest before they could turn their horses round to find better positioning.

Realising there was no way out, Tordrad swore under his breath and brought his lance to bare as his men formed up behind him for a counter charge that met the marauders head on.

His lance struck true against the metal shoulder plate of the chieftain as it sent a spark on contact, the force of the blow dismounting the foe from the horse. Tordrad was forced to quickly raise his shield to block a flail that had been aimed perfectly to crush his skull, quickly turning the weapon's directional velocity aside before dropping his lance onto the firm ground below them as he lashed out at the marauder with his scimitar, taking off one of the man's arms.

He lost concentration on the man's screaming as a loud roaring distracted him. He turned to look in the direction of the sound to find a sight that made his heart beat ever faster in sensation in his ears and throat.

The marauder chieftain had almost fully finished a transformation process. His body had torn and contorted out of all human recognition until the creature he stared at looked like a cross between man and beast. He recognised the signs of a "were" mutation, the creature before him now being half human, half sabretusk. The terrible fusion of dangerous foes tore the Kislevite's mounts apart with their riders still upon them falling from their steeds, littering the ground in confusion, fear in their eyes. These men were prone to the attacks of the mounted horsemen who unrelentingly continued their attacks from the saddle.

Tordrad's mind raced. He started to consider whether or not now would be the time to unleash that which he kept inside, that which he feared to let out. He feared that were he to let it loose, it may keep him on the outside forever, changing him irrevocably, terribly.

Before he could decide a sudden flail blow struck him in the back of the head. His helm absorbed the brunt of it, but he was rendered from consciousness as the sound of his men screaming from the ring of fire closing in rang in his ears for mere moments.

Eight minutes later, Avalanche's mind calmed a little more as he sensed the enemies had lost his trail.

His wounds were deep but were not serious enough to threaten his life, for his body was powerful. He was a horse of great size. His rider Tordrad was still unconscious, lain forward in the saddle across Avalanche's thick mane.

The horse had bolted past the marauders, who had attacked its side viciously. The blood from Tordrad's head wound mingled with that of the horse's cut on its neck.

Avalanche had jumped the narrowing ring of fire before it was too late, evading the dark sorcerer's incantation by a small miracle. His hooves were burned though, but survival had been more important than the pain.

For the rest of the night he bore Tordrad upon his own wounded body, making sure to keep moving but decreasing in pace as the bleeding wounds took their toll on his stamina. Eventually he had brought them to safety, as the first rays of the morning sun began to protrude across the flat horizon here, the stanitsa came into sight. Guards spotted them and ran out to help.

Seven years forwards once more.

On day thirty-five, the group came upon a clearing. Already Dieter's senses were alert, the others noticed. He went as far as to raise a hand for the others to remain where they were.

Tordrad placed a reassuring hand on his horse, which remained quiet too.

All eyes followed Dieter's gaze. In between the green of the protruding bushes, they could make out the huge crude stone atop a massive grassy mound covered in skulls and other items that looked like offerings.

Maestro and Tobias recognised it as a herdstone. Beside it, standing on guard duty but facing away from the group's position stood a great hulking brute of a creature, humanoid in shape but far more terrible than even a beastman.

A minotaur stood on guard. Its garb was red and it wore the symbol of Khorne on its loin cloth, front and rear. It held a massive brass great axe, far heavier than anything a human could wield. The creature's horns were blood soaked, left stained from whatever battle had bloodied them last.

Dieter crept forwards slowly. The others waited. While he was turned away from them, he incanted something quietly under his breath. Suddenly it was clear to at least him that with each careful tread on the ground, he made absolutely no sound whatsoever.

Silently Dieter approached the monstrous beast from behind. He made good time, coming up to it. The others looked on in wonder at why it hadn't noticed his presence for his was now directly behind the minotaur. He brought his machete low and under his body. He spoke a spell as quietly as he could and electricity crackled through the weapon. The creature had heard that though and turned its head sideways to see where the sound was coming from. It was too late though. Dieter reacted immediately, jumping with a stab manoeuvre, the machete blade dug through the creature's neck, partially damaging the nerves in its body. The electricity pumping through the blade singed its skin. It was dug in so deep that the machete was unrecoverable for the moment. It spun around and Dieter used the opportunity to strike it about the face with his stave. He pulled back at once and Ulger charged in with a leap, just missing the creature's throat, it tore a chunk of flesh from its chest instead before being thrown off by the maddening beast. The beat of hooves coming at it told the minotaur that it was going to be in trouble without help. It grasped the great horn it wore round its neck and made ready to blow it. Before it could though, Tordrad's mount had drawn him level with the creature, and his sword lashed out, striking two fingers from the minotaur's hand and cutting through the black chain that held it in place. The horn fell to the ground.

It roared in defiance and struck out at Tordrad who was no longer there. He had circled around it to the other side, lashing out with his blade as he went. Vicious cuts littered the creature's upper body all the way around but still it did not fall. Tobias was wearing the leather outfit. The sun was no longer in the sky. Like a shadow of the night itself, the halfling bounded into the back of the creature's legs stabbing it with a small blade as he made contact. It knocked the thing forwards, making it lean over to not lose its balance. Dieter snarled and jump kicked, launching himself from the stave. His foot met the embedded machete and drove it in even deeper.

With a froth of blood erupting from its mouth, the minotaur collapsed in surprise.

Tobias was all over the creature, stabbing it and dodging away deftly. Tordrad drove his axe deep through the beast from high above on horseback and it fell instantly silent.

Dieter recovered the machete and held it low while Ulger licked it, cleaning it for his master without even needing to be commanded.

The others looked at this strangely. The dog had been acting in a surprising manner during its ownership to Dieter.

Maestro took the large horn and stared through it at its larger end.

Tobias looked sternly at him, "Don't even think of blowing that horn!"

Maestro recoiled a little defensively, noting that Tobias's voice was a lot more edgy as well. It sounded angrier than normal.

Tobias made his way to the herdstone and inspected it, seemingly trying to figure out where the brass skull might be.

Dieter busied himself with removing the minotaur's head with a sawing action from his machete.

The others noticed that the herdstone was adorned with some fresher heads, and these varied in race, those of humans, elves and dwarfs.

Maestro reached into a sack he held and pulled out a different pair of spectacles. He blinked affirmatively and frowned as he read the strange graffiti that was written in blood across the herdstone. After a few moments of trying to read it he started, "Ah well, it is written in dark tongue. The writing seems to be a record of beastmen who assembled here previously, with leader names and number of followers for each. They…ah yes, they seem to call this place coast hill, no wait, GHOST HILL" he corrected.

Dieter shook his head.

Rissandrea smiled bravely, "I preferred the first one, I must admit."

Tordrad dismounted and stared at the ground about them. He noticed it was dotted with the remains of campfires, varying in size. The one closest to the herdstone he noticed, was the largest, almost ten feet across and ringed by burnt stones. He also saw bones from humanoid carcasses sticking out of the ash. He touched the area to discover it was completely cold. None had been here in a while.

Tobias began pulling stones away from one section of the hill. The others could see why. Beneath it was a picture, previously hidden from view. As they too helped to clear the debris of stones and bones they revealed a door – a large image of Khorne sitting on a throne placed high on skulls was etched into it.

Tordrad pushed at it with all his might. The others saw a slight crack appear but it simply would not open.

Even as the others helped him, still it would not budge.

Maestro spoke some words aloud, words in a terrible dark tongue. Once he had finished his recital, almost immediately the doorway slid open revealing the uninviting darkness beyond it.

The group looked at the wizard in some surprise. Maestro shrugged, "What? I tried a simple phrase of opening in the dark language. It seems my guess had been correct."

Father Odo remained quiet in his foreboding melancholy, as did the rest of the group. The terrible vision he had seen did not bode well for what they knew they must do next. The group reluctantly went inside. If anyone had been watching from a side view, it would have seemed like they were walking and disappearing into a small hill. Soon they were out of sight from the outside as Maestro's magic focused on his glowing staff lit the way on.


	10. Chapter 10

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle

_Based on the __2__nd__ edition WHFRP game chapter of the same name_

_This story contains spoilers for that book's (Ashes of Middenheim) adventure_

Chapter Ten

The Shrine in the Forest Part 2

The magical light from Maestro's staff illuminated the walls and the others wished it hadn't. Depictions of historic moments in the chaotic worship of battle, of Khorne adorned the walls in a crude brass writing against a dark red wall.

Maestro spoke, "A Khornite beastman of some importance is buried here". The wizard screwed a small telescope into the enlarged socket of his spectacles. It looked every bit like an over sized jeweller's magnification appraisal device. He called it a monocular, designed by his own hand from lenses he'd stolen from the telescopes of the Celestial College of Magic. He continued to study the dark runes along the walls as the others examined the passage left and right.

Dieter could not shake off a feeling of de-ja-vu. Perhaps it was something he'd seen in a dream he couldn't completely remember, he thought. He made mention of warning for traps.

Tobias, still dressed in his black leathers, held himself low in a constant stoop, (which he only ever did at night) took a stone and threw it to the left. Nothing happened. He then threw one to the right and as it bounced along the ground from his skilful skimming action, some pressure point in the floor must have been activated as a previously concealed compartment in the wall opened, as an iron spear trap activated. It swung into the passage to a point that would have been level with a person's chest.

The group looked at Dieter, partly with relief and partly with concern at the bigger question. He simply shrugged and pointed out that Morr's influence was strong within his dreams.

Tobias managed to find a secret door and onwards they pushed until their already careful tread was brought to a halt from the sound of wet slushy slopping sounds around the corner. Having stopped, they avoided running directly into a terrible thing indeed. It was roughly humanoid in shape and covered in a red mist. Its features were a hideous snarl and upon closer inspection it seemed that it was in fact bones covered in a strangely semi solid jelly of blood underneath.

It rounded the corner as the sound of a second one could be heard, clearly approaching from behind it. The party stared in horrified unison. Dieter had removed the minotaur's head while outside, he had chopped it off with his machete saying that he wanted to study it and even use its horns for potion making. Right now though, Maestro's eyes were upon the head Dieter carried, as he looked back to the approaching bloodcursed creatures.

Maestro spoke, "Dieter, you need to give me that thing's head."

Dieter seemed defensive to that idea, "This is my trophy, I'm damned if you will take it."

Maestro scoffed at him in insolence, "You'll be damned if I don't."

Dieter scowled and snarled a little then reluctantly handed the head over to the wizard adding, "Whatever you do, it better work…" The intent of harm was somehow behind those words as Maestro took the minotaur's head and quickly held it up before the creatures. They didn't stop. Maestro spoke aloud in the language of chaos, dark tongue, "Here me now servants of blood." This seemed to work, the bloodcursed paused as Maestro continued dramatically, "Bound in honour as you are to the skull throne, you would seek to serve your master's brutal designs. In standing in our way you only threaten to harm them! I am here on pilgrimage to he who lies in this place. I come to complete my training in the ways of Khorne! I bring this trophy" Maestro pushed the severed head at them once for effect, "in offering to the blood god, to the skull throne, a mighty minotaur that I did kill in battle, thus honouring him too. Now I being his head to let him be honoured upon the skull throne."

The front bloodcursed kept coming but Maestro held his confidence and character in place. The atrocity of formal human life reached out and took the head from Maestro, examining it in its hands, turning it this way and that before being satisfied and taking it away with him down the passage he came from. The others in the group looked shocked. It had worked…they hoped.

Next they came upon a large triangular shaped room with a fountain in it, but instead of water this one streamed blood in a great gout around it.

Maestro was taking no chances here either, making a dark prayer to the blood God himself in dark tongue, the others held their breaths at this, waiting for some terrible thing to happen as the wizard walked forwards first. Nothing did. Dieter's danger senses were buzzing but somehow he knew that his proximity to the wizard at this moment in time was saving him. He still felt grieved for the loss of the minotaur head. No-matter he thought, he would have to find another one…

Soon they came upon a great antechamber. At the far end was a statue of Khorne sitting upon a brass throne. Skulls and bones were littered around it, as a ghastly dedication to the deity.

Suddenly, two skeletons appeared out of the heaps of bones in the room. They began to close in on the group.

Rissandrea shouted, "It seems this place is guarded, perhaps your trick did not work Maestro."

Dieter answered for the wizard, "No, I feel this is them being nice to us! A test. Kitten herders could have gotten this far after all."

Rissandrea laid a comforting hand upon the anointed priest's shoulder saying, "it will be alright, we are close now" as she brought her staff aside to reveal the gun in her robes. The shot drove out and bore a way through the skeleton's skull, melting it from an expanding hole. This jolted the others into action. Quickly they engaged the skeletons as new ones emerged. Soon they were fighting six in number. Father Odo put his hands over his head, as the ringing sounds of metal upon metal clanged and reverberated around the room peculiarly, coming back to him loudly.

Quickly, all of the skeletons were dispatched with skill and soft grating noises drew their attention to the rooms that had opened now on either side.

From the diary of Maestro:

Day 34

I have recovered a hammer, its head broken into 3 pieces. Rissandrea has assured me that the design and runes upon it are dwarfish. Curious that she might know such a thing…

Dieter stumbled upon a tattered banner that we recognised as belonging to the Knights of the White Wolf.

Rissandrea herself found a helm of the Knights Panther. We will do our utmost to return these items to their proper factions when we can.

Little else of interest was found in our search of that trophy room. It was the room on the other side though that was of more significance…

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 34

Saw sarcophagus in tomb room. Jumped river of blood that protected it and pulled lid away. There I saw long dead body of Beastman champion. I wait for him to rise, to attack. He do no such thing. I take horned brass skull away from around his neck. Wizard, he babble some more. Not care.

Rissandrea's diary:

Day 34

Maestro has informed us that the writings on the tomb walls tell the story of the beastman champion in there. He was called Kazron Gorespite. We have gotten away with the skull, but it feels too easy…What is important at least is that it is not in the enemy's hands now.

Maestro's diary:

Day 35

Rissandrea seems worried that I incited the words of dark tongue in that evil tomb. I did not fear it though, as I explained. Much of the power of Gods is in what they have us believe, not what is actually true. Secondly, I knew that I was playing against the element of Khorne, of the God who gives praise to brutal slaughter and abhors magic. I am a wizard, therefore I am already safe for the ideas and notions cannot corrupt me into wielding a weapon like a warrior. I simply am not strong enough to do so. Were it Tzeentch, I would not have been so careless, but I did what was needed to get us through safely.

From the diary of Tobias:

Day 36

It is my academic opinion that the brass skull is imbued with a terrible presence of evil. I know this by the way the Kislevite's horse becomes upset when near it.

Another thing that strikes me as odd is that it keeps managing to find its way out of the backpacks we put it in! When we wake in the morning, there it is, sitting on the ground watching us. It is eery! I will be glad to be back in the city and rid of it!


	11. Chapter 11

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle

_Based on the __2__nd__ edition WHFRP game chapter of the same name_

_This story contains spoilers for that book's (Ashes of Middenheim) adventure_

Chapter Eleven

A Restless Night

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 38

We slept in a cave. After hearing the roars of nearby beastmen herds, we decided that gaining their attention from our campfire would not be the wisest thing to do.

Though the days are warmer right now, the nights are still cold. Some terrible draft washes through this forest, like a curse upon it.

It is said that beastmen are the true children of chaos. I can understand that.

I only wish our night of so called rest hadn't put us more ill at ease about the brass skull we carry with us.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 38

I was on guard duty while the others slept, then it happened. Good job really as I could feel myself drifting off too. The last thing I need is to see the future according to Morr when I'm in this place. I already know the future. Lots of killing, perhaps some of us being killed, me trying to save these idiots and getting myself hurt or worse into the bargain - all just to save myself. It's not fair. If I can find some way to get even with the Gods…

Anyway, I'm getting distracted now. As I was saying, last night the skull was suddenly out of the backpack. I woke up Tordrad, shaking him perhaps too violently as he stood up with wide open eyes and looked every bit like he was going to tear my head off. I like this side of him! You know where you stand with the man.

The commotion woke the do-gooder Rissandrea. The reason I got spooked was, well something felt wrong about the skull. Something inside it was…different somehow. This time it felt like something was within it, watching me. Though the others were quickly awoken and asking what was wrong, I was unable to mouth an answer. Something was happening to me.

Maestro's diary:

Day 38

It was all he could do to point at it. It was at that moment that enough sleepy dust had cleared from my eyes for my magically attuned senses to switch on. I saw a witch sight apparition coming from the skull itself. It wasn't magic exactly, but it was power, old power. A red misty hue coming up from the skull. Evidently some energy of Khorne, which could only mean one thing – daemonic influence. This was confirmed when Dieter was suddenly no longer in control of his own actions. I could tell he was fighting it but something was making him walk towards the skull. I saw a red trail leading from it to Dieter.

I quickly took the accursed object and put it back into the backpack. The red essence trail remained though, the tethers of it in the air were strong.

From the diary of Tordrad:

Day 38

I tell that Dieter he possessed. Waiting on word to strike him down if he attack wizard. He did not.

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 38

Strangely though the others speak of the disturbance last night, I do not remember it properly. It was as if it was just a dream, one that they all had and think is real. All I know is that it started with that Death fellow.

Rissandrea's diary:

Day 38

Dieter's own willpower against the forces of corruption were immense. I've never seen anything like it. It actually drove the evil back out of his body. I actually felt the shift cross a different path. It made my skin crawl and my hair stand up on end wherever it moved. This too is a sign of my own increasing power.

That's when I saw it shift across to the barely awake Father Odo. His will was a lot less guarded and his senses were dulled where he was still between wake and sleep.

Maestro tried to wake him. His shouts of warning did nothing and the priest simply kept walking towards the skull. I was closest and no one was doing anything. I had to do something!

Tordrad's diary:

Day 38

The priestess girly, she has great arm on her when angry! She slap half asleep priest hard on kisser. Very good laugh for me. I think I not make her angry ever.

Rissandrea's diary:

Day 38

After I had helped Father Odo wake up, I quickly explained that he was being overwhelmed by a daemonic force and together we prayed to drive the thing back into its place. I do not feel it was banished back to the daemonic realms though. I feel it retreated back into the skull.

After that, none of us felt like sleeping any longer and we got going.

As they trekked over northwards, heading back to the great city of the white wolf a sound rang out in the distance. A flock of birds flew skyward at the deep horn blowing. Faint war cries were picked up on the wind and a second horn blew somewhere off to the other side of them.

Voices that sounded like beastmen were heard off to the extreme west and east of the group's position. An ambush had been plotted, confident in the tread of their own forest, they did not care about giving up their position now. They would enjoy the thrill of the hunt, of prey who were trying to escape.

Tobias was back in his scholarly robes and pointed out, "We'll never get to the city in time."

Maestro answered, "That doesn't matter, we must try to escape their net."

The group hurried north and their decisive evasive action had bought them a little while longer. They had almost managed to press on for an hour when the first ungor broke from the tree line to the side – more were following up behind him.

Their step was far too quick for humans to escape anyway.

Maestro had considered jumping onto the back of Avalanche and ordering Tordrad to ride them away. But then he realised that he'd only have to finish whatever terrible quests were ahead of him alone with the Kislevite. He quite enjoyed having the support of a whole team around him. It was other people who might get cut down instead of him. That suited the wizard perfectly!

The ungor bows were of little help to them, for the place where they attacked on either side was low – an embankment that led up to the road fairly high above it in this section of the woods. Moving on as they had, had at least given the group a slight positional advantage but still they were outnumbered.

Ungors engaged the group in hand to hand combat all around and more were on the way. Two full squads of ungor raiders had ascended from the undergrowth.

Tordrad had the biggest advantage, being able to ride up and down the road section, cutting down the ungors who scrabbled onto the road from the low embankment, their footing not quite stable yet.

Dieter was busy fending off two at once. He knew that he had little chance of killing any with so many potential attacks to come in, so he held them off and let Ulger play distraction while he waited for an opportunity to turn the tide of the battle somehow.

Rissandrea drew her gun and made the sign of the holy mother to her order as she opened fire with the magical pistol. Great gushes of white energy exploded out of the barrel with each shot. Each shot fired was a kill, disintegrating chaotic flesh where it connected. To her, she was putting to rest poor souls unfortunate enough to be born into the bodies of beastmen.

Tobias was firing his stone shots from the sling, expertly aimed and calling for his team mates to move aside when required.

Dieter looked at Father Odo, crouching scared, shaking, and shouted at him, "Priest, you useless cretin, do something to help us!"

He did nothing but remain prone, with his hands over his head in-case a stray axe or stone hit him. Dieter at that moment decided that he would make the man pay for that. He'd annoyed him too much on this trip, being useless baggage, not pulling his weight like he should have been, for Dieter's liking. When all of this was over…

Maestro knew that something had to be done. The group was outnumbered and the amount of pressing attacks meant that it was all the group could do just to parry and defend.

Their circle of defence was decreasing all the time though, shrinking down. Soon they would be back to back and then they would be overwhelmed perhaps. Maestro though was confident that the abilities of the group would see them through, if he could just buy them a moment of time. He concentrated his aethyric channelling and spoke the words of a sound spell, letting it lightly tumble from his lips. He based the manifested sound off of the death throes of the minotaur they had met earlier, but increased its volume and intensity. He fancied that it perhaps sounded like one of their leaders, a doom bull he believed they were called.

The spell's intended effect was a success. The ungors paused for a moment in startled surprise and this was enough to let the team push back and cut down a couple more of their number, however the sound had also attracted a minotaur, which had managed to pinpoint the exact position of the ambush. It joined the fray and the group moaned in downhearted acceptance. Tordrad charged at it on his horse, bringing the lance up into a kill position. The minotaur lowered its horns at seeing the challenge and charged in kind at the Kislevite.

The lance was longer, it impacted first, momentarily picking the minotaur up off of the ground as it deeply impaled the beast's shoulder. It roared in maddened battle lust and tugged the lance out of Tordrad's hand, throwing it aside. Tordrad quickly reached for his shield but was not in time. The minotaur's axe was coming across, aimed directly for Tordrad's neck. The speed and technique of the creature's strike was perfect, the perfect killing blow. Tordrad was left exposed for those few seconds as the world seemed to slow down for him. He knew that he was dead, that he had failed to protect the wizard, that he had failed to return to his people with his head held high again. None of it would matter now. He accepted his fate, that he and the minotaur were alone in this battle and the minotaur had won.

However, he was not alone. Avalanche had perceived the threat and rose its front end upwards in a split second of timing to make the axe miss its target by very little. The cold rush of draft across the kislevite's neck proved how close the blow had been. Quickly he came to his senses as Avalanche neighed ferociously, as if in defiance. The horse brought its front hooves down hard on the minotaur's arm, breaking it in three places from the impact. The great creature had been put to one knee. Tordrad lashed out with his scimitar but the minotaur's killing fury knew no bounds. It grabbed the Kislevite's weapon arm in its great hand, taking the blow of the blade into its body just to be able to grab the man and finish him with its bare hands like it had with so many other humans over the last few weeks of the war. Before it could land a blow that would have rendered Tordrad from consciousness and perhaps his head from his shoulders, a crossbow bolt shot out from the undergrowth and struck the beast in the side of its neck. It gurgled and collapsed dead immediately. As Tordrad stood up, similar other shots came out, striking down four of the ungors. The combination of this and seeing the minotaur's lifeblood pumping out of its corpse had been too much for the remainder of the ambushers and they fled, as another round of bolts sounded out and felled two more of them.

Within moments the roadside was clear of attackers and the group's saviours revealed themselves.

Dieter immediately sat down on a tree stump and began sewing up a wound on his arm. He ignored the men who had revealed themselves here.

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 38

Then we were saved by three witch hunters –Mathias Hoffer, Jakob Baur and Ulrich Fischer. Apparently "Ulric" and variant spellings of it are the most popular name for boys in all of Middenheim…No surprises there then. It is interesting to see that these men wear amulets about their necks, with the same symbol on that we saw at Kroen's gravesite and on Malvanius's ring. The sign of sword and hammer crossed in front of a twin tailed comet with the letters O and F prominently to the sides.

These men wanted to know of our mission and the others filled them in. Apparently us asking around about Kroen's death got their attention and they followed us out here. They had been trying to find us. We were lucky they did.

Obviously these men are of the Ordo Fidelis. They aren't even meant to exist, officially and the fact that they are involved in this simply illustrates the growing danger of the situation this group finds itself in.

I write this in the hope that when I bring this diary back safely with me, to take my leave from Maestro and the group permanently, that the contents of the book reflect the danger of my duty, beyond even the job description, that perhaps there might be a bonus waiting in my wages.

The men are to accompany us back to Middenheim anyway. They are keen for us to get the skull away from this forest, out of enemy hands.


	12. Chapter 12

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle

_Based on the __2__nd__ edition WHFRP game chapter of the same name_

_This story contains spoilers for that book's (Ashes of Middenheim) adventure_

Chapter Twelve

The Unquiet Death

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 40

We made it back to the city well enough.

When we brought the skull back to the Temple of Ulric, they took it from us and placed it into an iron chest with runes upon it. Good!

We sat at the dining table ready to explain all that had happened in our journey. Maestro became distressed though, I noticed, when the drinks were brought in. Wine and water had been offered.

Father Odo drank of the water and Rissandrea was about to partake of some too when Maestro started babbling at her, sweating profusely. I became immediately suspicious of course.

It seems the wizard's witch sight steered him to seeing a green hue rise from the water jug, which we later speculated had come from a well that had been poisoned with warpstone!

Father Odo transformed instantly, convulsing and screaming as the terrible process took hold of him.

Where the priest did fall, in his place did rise a bird like monstrosity.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 40

Magnamus was right! A person can became a chaos spawn just like that!

We managed to kill the thing with very little trouble, but still, that is not the point! It seems that though the war is over, the looming cloud of chaos still rains upon the people of this place.

By all accounts, it would seem that the church itself has become corrupted. Oh, I can't say I'm surprised of course, no not at all.

I have researched much of the city's cults and religions during my stay here. Their great library is extensive, if a little fanatical to its most inspired of ideas…

All religions are cults to me anyway. Better to be shot of the lot of them.

It seems the Jade Sceptre of Slaanesh made their move at bringing down the city on the inside during the actual war itself. Now that is over, it seems that Tzeentch's cult of the Purple Hand are extending that hand, right into the church. Seeing a bird like chaos spawn manifest from the tortured screaming body of Father Odo pretty much guaranteed that in my mind.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 40

Now would be the best time for the chaos internal cults to strike, while the city is reeling from its attack, as the bulk of its troops are outside of the walls, chasing Archaon's army back up into the Wastes. Yes, if I was a scheming God I too would attack the city right now. That does not bode well for us.

If only I was a scheming God, so much I could do. My first stop would be Morr…

More fun was to be had inside the Temple though, before I forget I should mention here, three of the kitchen staff had drank from the water too. They were running around with mutations. We tried stopping them. It became unpleasant…for them at least.

Ulger and I killed two of them before Rissandrea intervened on the third. Damn her!

Still it doesn't matter.

It's all going wrong anyway.

Odo was so promising too, and even he has been stolen from me.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 40

I managed to make the third mutant and our party see sense. This man had no evil in his heart. Maestro and I pointed out that the Temple of Shallya in this city should indeed be able to cure such a mutation. The man was still insistent on leaving, getting away but I warned him against that. Were he to go into the city, it would cause panic and the watch would kill him.

I promised to use my connections to the Church to get him some help.

Too many innocents have died already.

Maestro demanded that the well be covered.

We thought that would be the last of it.

We were wrong, of course. 

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 40

We met a fellow, the Deputy High Priest Claus Liebnitz. I recognize his emblem from my studies at the library. He appears to be a member of the Brotherhood of the Axe – a powerful and respected military order within the Teutogen Guard.

We ended up getting roped into helping the witch hunters watch the rest of the city wells. Some of the other wells had been poisoned with more warpstone traces.

As they walked to the main well on the southern side of the city, Dieter couldn't help but raise a point with Maestro, "Maestro listen" he started, "I'm sure I don't have to remind you that if a portal to a chaos realm appears again, you are NOT to blow it up."

Maestro smirked, "But you just did Dieter my man."

Dieter shook his head and remained calm, albeit with great effort, continuing, "Yes, I'm taking no chances with you. Back in Altdorf you almost killed us all."

Maestro's eyes narrowed, "For what it's worth, I didn't mean to blow it up. I just tried to disrupt the spell."

Dieter snapped at him a little, "Yes, well magic is a dangerous commodity as we can clearly see. In your hands it is unpredictable."

"That's why I'm training, Dieter." Maestro replied defensively and added, "What was I supposed to do? Let a greater daemon run havoc across the city?"

Dieter was unimpressed, "Foolishness that results in victory is not the same as courage."

Maestro smiled and replied, "It matters in the one place that it counts most, on the paperwork of my report that will ultimately end up back in the Magisters' hands."

Tobias gave Maestro a short glance and tried to not let on that the conversation intrigued him.

Dieter still wouldn't let it go, "Then there was the fire, where you made the portal explode and it killed the old woman."

Maestro pouted, "I told Tobias to sling a stone, I did not do it, he did."

The halfling raised his eyebrows in dismay.

Dieter snarled a little at the mention of Tobias's name and replied, "As much as I would enjoy pinning any blame on that short legged shaven rat of a half man, YOU asked him to. It's your interventions that cause all of this. It's your presence that binds us together in fact. Binds me to you." Dieter quickly took a step back, internally. He realised he'd gone too far.

Maestro asked, "What do you mean?"

"Figuratively" replied Dieter, "I mean, it's not…like I can leave you on your own now, after seeing what a state you leave everything in, after you have touched it."

Maestro smiled wickedly at this, "I like you too, Dieter."

Dieter thought better of saying anything else to the contrary. He had almost overstepped the mark, said too much. Anything he told them would not help. It could only lead to the potential for coming back on him later down the line. Dieter always believed in leaving alone even the most innocuous of conversational threads.

Dieter realised that everyone was looking at him now and added, "Just do me a favour then, next time at least ask before you blow a portal up. We're getting into trouble with the chaos forces, I tell you."

Maestro nodded, "That sounds reasonable."

The group soon arrived at their destination.

From the diary of Tordrad:

Day 40

We wait, hiding to catch anyone trying to poison well. Halfling take robes off, go crazy again as sun go down. He more crazy than the wizard is. Maybe it is influence from College of Magic. Maybe wizard be that crazy one day too.

Halfling is even funnier at night. He snarl at me even. Much attitude he has. I like that.

We not wait long, man in dark robes came. Halfling creep out to him, swap his pouch of poison for pouch of small stones. When man go to tip it in well he find truth, he start running.

Wizard surprises me. Somehow he faster than anyone I ever saw. He raced out to criminal and speak in dangerous mage tongue. He touch criminal and criminal fall down. Criminal asleep from touch.

Dieter have malicious glint in eye. I like that too. He make me laugh. Small man, very weak but much heart of warrior. Tordrad sees it. Dieter tries to hide it. Tordrad knows fighter when he sees one.

Halfling ties man up. Slaps his face until he wake. Dieter asks him questions. I know not what, but man is scared. Very good fun this.

Dieter make the man focus on finger. Man just stare like half asleep then. Wizard say this word much, "hip-no-ties" I not know this word. Dieter do this perhaps. Man tells group much.

Next we go to cultist base on corner of Todmane Alee and Ecke Strasse. We smash way through into warehouse. Man hides behind barrels, he try run. Wizard he leap forward, over barrels, faster than he looks. He touch this man too, who falls asleep on floor. Halfling steals man's coin purse.

Secret hatch man was going to. Ladder lead down. We end up in tunnel underground. Storeroom down here. Maestro find spear. It magic. He excited about it too, so it must be. It has some power about it. A presence of something, maybe someone. After seeing what skull did, I believe anything could be possessed.

We burst in on dark chaos wizard. He bring guards to defend. My silly wizard, he angers chaos wizard. Speaks in evil language once more, threatens chaos wizard. Silly wizard should not have done this. Chaos wizard, he cast spell. Spat much blood at my wizard. Blood hit him in chest and make it burn. Silly wizard scream like little girl, fall to his knees and try to survive cultist guards. Rissandrea fight them off him with quarterstaff. Good that she did this as I needed time to get to him. Dieter, the dog and halfling fighting wizard. He holding them off with barrier power. He using lot of power quickly, drawing much darkness around him. This why male wizard is bad idea. Maestro better not become like this. Better as buffoon as is now, than this.

More proof of this I see as terrible conjuration go wrong for chaos wizard. His face, it change to surprise, to horror. Soon same look on my group's faces. I not paid to protect them, just wizard. I run to wizard to save him from other men. Not matter though. Other men see portal tear itself open, like ripping of parchment, revealing chaos portal behind chaos wizard. I know what these are. Seen enough now. Large red hand pull chaos wizard in through portal. He scream like child. Something big inside make him look like child, feel like child I think. Portal closed shut. Not before man-sized daemon step out.

Hooves, red skin, horns, big axe. Good fight for me. It was too good a fight. My weapon could not hurt it. It mock me instead.

Wizard shout my name, I look to see spear he holding glowing orange, smoke rising from end of it. Daemon look worried at spear too. Good sign I see. Wizard perhaps less an idiot than first seems. He threw spear to me, throw like girl, weak arm. I catch though and fight daemon. Spear burned his flesh, made him scream. Voice like ten people at once. I not care, he daemon and spear knows it. Before I can finish bloodletter, it fade like not really there anymore, like mist and then completely gone.

My kill denied me.

I was not happy at it escaping. Maestro say something to me, I part understand him trying to tell me it not matter, because daemons not die anyway, just banish, even when you kill them.

This make me feel even worse.

Maybe though, maybe powerful spear like this, maybe it kill daemon so well that it die from it.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note:

From chapter 14 I won't be writing the story, Lory Cozens will be. This should be at least until the end of the Middenheim story arc. I will probably return so don't panic, but I'll likely give someone else a chance to write as well. These are the other players of the RPG game that inspires this storyline. Please note, the new chapters will continue to be updated on this page.

You can read all about it and why here - .

Thanks for all your support so far. See you soon and please keep reading to find out what I'm doing, because Maestro is played at the table by me, so you can find out what I did through the story.

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle

_Based on the __2__nd__ edition WHFRP game chapter of the same name_

_This story contains spoilers for that book's (Ashes of Middenheim) adventure_

Chapter Thirteen

Panic In The Streets

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 40

The deed was done. Our mission was a success but we began to grow suspicious in our journey back to the temple, of the large amounts of watch running to and fro across the city.

We quickly discovered that a number of mutants had come about due to the poisoned water. There were too many for me to save and besides, I am not yet a priestess. Who listens to me? Really?

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 40

Stupid people of the stupid city! Running rampant and causing widespread chaos all around.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 40

Then we came upon a poor man who had been tied to a post. It was clear that something was wrong with the situation.

A group of citizens were crowded around him, jeering and throwing insults. His house was being prepared for burning. Anarchy!

Upon an even closer inspection I could see he had a sign on his chest, a crudely painted on warning that read – beestman.

Not even spelt correctly. Several of the city watch were nearby, but it turned out that they were not even who they said they were…

As for the accused man – the horns on his head were tied on with string! I was having none of it. I pushed through the crowd. The others followed me. I began addressing them and discovered that they cruelly labelled this man as a beastman. Even when we removed the fake horns, still they jeered and kept to their purpose.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 40

Quite frankly, I didn't want to get involved. I was more curious about our chances of faring against so large a crowd if things turned ugly. From looking at some of the faces present, I think it already had.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 40

We later found out that the man being tied up was a money lender. The crowd were simply borrowers who were trying to use the opportunity of the city being in a state of upheaval to get rid of him, and hence their debts.

Not that I care about these people, not any of them. Not the man who was tied up, nor the crowd, nor the group I even travel with, but something about this situation, the supreme stupidity of it, so alarmingly ignorant, foolish to try and get away with – I couldn't let it stand. I could have cut each and every one of them down where they stood for the act they were about to commit.

I kept it simple. The time for words was over. We'd tried it the Shallyan's way and that hadn't worked. I noticed the main speaker, the ringleader amongst them was a dwarf. I told him to back down. He laughed at me and the crowd laughed too.

I grabbed the bastard by his beard and started to lift.

I hate short people and idiot crowds.

I have a new friend, I think.

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 40

Somehow Dieter so strong, when he wants to be. He picked up dwarf by beard! Lifted him a little off ground. Impressive!

Dieter shouted words at dwarf. Dwarf looked concerned suddenly. Crowd too. Got more than they bargained for with him. He started poking dwarf hard in the face.

Ends up kicking up the ass as city watch arrive. Crowd disburse before the pretend city watch could do anything about it.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 40

Terrible, city watch chased a little girl down an alleyway. Yes she had a mutation, but of course it was curable. I tried to explain this to the watchmen.

Tordrad became very defensive of the girl, seeing that they had drawn their weapons and cornered her as they had. He drew his weapon and stood in their way.

I've never seen the man do anything outside of his bodyguard duty. This had riled him.

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 40

She remind me so of my little sister…I called her that. She was like a sister to me…back in Kislev – another I was forced to leave…she was reason I leave.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 40

I explained that while I am a Shallyan devotee and am unable to partake of serious violence, my Kislevite friend has no such restrictions. I pointed out that he was evidently taking the violent threat towards this girl seriously. I begged that they let us take her to the church for healing.

Dieter was also strangely defensive of her. I saw his machete ready in hand. He was prepared to strike those men if need be. I've never seen this side of him either.

We were then invited back to the watch headquarters to give a report. I again insisted that we take the girl to the church first. They seemed to accept this eventually, after much looking at one another. This made me suspicious.

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 40

On the way back to the watch HQ, we saw Deputy High Priest Claus Liebnitz and a group of heavily armed Teutogen guard step out in front of us. He asked us what was going on.

Rissandrea tried to answer and one of the guards promptly struck her to the face. Tordrad went to move in for the attack but the guards were upon him in moments. His strength was so great he almost threw them off of him. Had Rissandrea not shot him a looking to appeal for calm, he might well have succeeded!

The watchmen told the Deputy High Priest that we were suspects in a chaos scheme.

Maestro tried to argue, pointing out that the group did indeed have permits to investigate the situation as they saw fit. A mission to protect the wells, as directed by the witch hunters.

One of Liebnitz's men pointed out that a group of witch hunters had indeed just been arrested.

Liebnitz told the men to stand down, that he would handle it from here. He satisfied the watchmen that they would be duly paid for their capture.

Things were looking up when we were escorted to the Temple. At last it seemed like we could get the investigation moving again and get out of this city. Alas that was not to be…The bastards.

Tordrad's diary:

Day 40

They escorted us to jail area, want to show us something there, he say. Witch hunter prisoner there. It is Matthias Hoffer.

Liebnitz say something in smarmy voice. Voice sound so different now. I not know what he say, some words like "yoo outlivved yoosefull-ness". Something like these words. Others get tense, this made me tense. I see fight soon. Liebnitz leaves. He spoke this through closed door.

Wizard become angry all of sudden. Interesting to see him stand up for himself. Maybe he is true man yet. He say something with wagging finger, trying to look threatening. Finger and voice ruin effect – I can tell from guard. Guard grabs him. He speak mage tongue and touch guard's forehead. Guard fall asleep. I not be jailed for crime I did not commit.

I make sure I even not be jailed for crime I do do. So especially not be jailed for crime I do not.

Liebnitz, he is bad man.

I cut down two more guards. More attack. We end up bringing down six guards. Some dead, some asleep.

Then I see jailer and some guards still alive. We throw them in jail. Ironic outcome. Dieter notice rope on ground – look on his face tells me, this not to be good for jailer he eyeballing.

Dieter thread rope through cell bars – around jailer's neck – he squeeze hard. Strange man up against bars, from outside. Man's head look like maybe it become bigger. Maybe not. Haha! I think this way though. It funny.

Jailer then still asleep. Dieter angry now – he give kick to jailer's spine. I hear satisfying crack. Reminds me of when I prepare animal to eat. Jailer scream now. Must be awake.

Dieter say word to wizard. Word like In-tare-row-gate.

He tell them he not know much I think, as Dieter got angry again.

When I look back to jailer, he had extra pool of blood coming from him – he lying on floor. Not know what happened.

They make plan now. Take guards clothes and put on. Take jailer key to escape. Release witch hunter man in cell.

From the diary of Maestro:

Day 40

Mathias Hoffer was in the holding cells and we released him too, but he was badly injured. He had managed to tell us that Bauer had been taken while searching for the poisoners of the wells.

He had uncovered a cultist den within a tavern basement called 'The Sword and Flail'.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 40

We arrived at the Temple of Sigmar only to find it practically under siege! They were getting ready to burn the man inside, with cries of "heretic". Religion is such a dangerous thing to perceive wrong.

I have been challenged about my beliefs before. Rather than getting into something heated like many do over this topic, I simply answer that if I am wrong in my belief, if what I believe in turns out to be incorrect, at least I have spent my time healing and doing good - unlike some others who have been on more morally ambiguous "righteous quests".

Tobias's diary:

Day 40

Hoffer showed us a secret entrance into the Temple. Bah, I could have found it myself!

From the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 40

The watch apparently arrested witch hunter Jakob Bauer with a copy of the highly forbidden 'Liber Chaotis' on his person. He will apparently be put on trial.

There had obviously been a political play put in motion, to destabilize the region.

It turns out the mob outside of the Temple were there for Ulrich Fischer, who managed to escape when Bauer was captured.

We all know that Bauer is innocent at least. I can tell that those who believe it, know it to be so. They had revealed their hand too early when they tried to imprison us as they had.

Dieter sat and waited by an upstairs window, while the others discussed what to do next. A mission was afoot, for the adventurers to search the tavern that had the cultist base within it. Dieter stared at the angry mob who erected their makeshift pyre to burn the witch hunter who was hiding inside with them. Nearby houses were being looted for any scraps that could feed the fire.

As he stared, Dieter's eyes fixed on the licking flames – losing focus to reality around him, he closed his eyes and the darkness of nothingness swallowed him whole. He opened his eyes again, or…or at least he thought he had. Still he was surrounded by darkness. His thoughts were low and hard to access, as if he was busy doing something else, something he wasn't aware of.

There was no breath, yes he wasn't breathing. He knew this as he realised he was in some sort of liquid, yet no bubbles came from his mouth as he exhaled…yet he had exhaled, so surely he was breathing. This thought alone was enough to take up his entire concentration. He could focus on very little else. Soon he couldn't even focus on that fact when his eyes had began to adjust to the darkness around him – when he saw a shape begin to become apparent in the blackness of the liquid before him.

What he saw took him by surprise, yet it seemed like it was the most natural thing he had ever seen as well. A baby, not fully developed yet floated before him – its body in a foetal position – as he came to the realisation that there was no way it could possibly be born yet. So how was this? It was before him now. He looked down and saw his own hand. It looked different. Like that of a growing baby.

A strange anger began to take hold of him. He suddenly felt defensive and aware of threat. The baby in front of him floated up a little. Its umbilical cord came into view from below. Its hands flexed a little, fingers outwards then into fists as they had been previously. The anger was so intense now, worse than anything he had ever felt before.

Suddenly the baby in front of him opened its eyes and glared at him. Its stare was horrific. Malice was clear upon its expression suddenly and its eyes glared a terrible red colour.

There was a blur as a surge of water whooshed around him.

Next thing Dieter knew, the baby before him was struggling, its umbilical cord had been severed. Its hands were around Dieter's throat and he was being choked.

Dieter responded in kind.

The baby before him was first to go motionless. Dieter felt satisfaction suddenly well up inside him. He had earned the right to life. He had wanted life more than the other.

Crimson clouds floated through the liquid, filling the dark space around him. He began suckling on the nutrients of the dead meat before him. His first meal tasted wonderful. He didn't know what was waiting outside for him, but he knew he would find his way there, somehow.

The blood surrounded him and red gave way to orange as Dieter's eyes were back on the pyre's flames outside. The red haze coming up from the smoke made his past vision still hang in front of his eyes as he shivered at the realisation of another old memory.

This one explained a lot for him. Everything made sense now…


	14. Chapter 14

Editorial Note:

Lory Cozens was unable to fulfil the request (that he had accepted) to become temp writer for TFT, so the baton passed to another player at the table, Peter Davis-Parker, who plays Dieter in the story.

He needed a lot of guidance so I gave his work a revision and edited it as much as I could, without re-writing all of it, hehe.

My hope is that I can train Peter to become an understudy of sorts. So here we have it, chapter 14 of TFT.

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Peter Davis-Parker

Rephrasing, plot co-ordinating, editing by Robert James Freemantle

_Based on the 2__nd__ edition WHFRP game chapter of the same name_

_This story contains spoilers for that book's (Ashes of Middenheim) adventure_

Chapter Fourteen

Trial of Fire

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 40:

The others discussed the best way to get into the tavern, I decided to stay out of the conversation since they are smart enough to handle that low a task. Most of them anyway.

Head hurts for some strange reason.

"Right! So Tobias you will sneak in through the upstairs window and check the rooms, while the rest of us will improvise an excuse to get to the cellar where you can join us" piped Maestro before continuing, "Dieter you have been rather quiet, even for you. Is something perhaps the matter?"

Dieter looked up glaring at the wizard and after a moment replied, "I am fine and so is the plan. Let's just get there already, before the halfling changes its mind…before he tries to steal my wallet - not for the first time this evening."

With that the four left the temple, avoiding the gaze of people who scurried in the darkness like the rat men they had previously fought.

From the Diary of Rissandrea:

Day 40:

This city is so full of sickness both of the body and of the spirit. It disheartens me to know I alone could not heal it. Even with my sisters and the temple, the city remains like this. I know how hard they must try and how they feel.

I find Dieter hard to figure out. One minute he seems to struggle to barely contain some darkness within but then he fought like a maddened thing to protect the false beast man and the poor girl with the mutation."

From the Diary of Tobias:

Day 40:

Finally they gave me a job to do - a pitifully easy one given my skills, better than having to follow that idiotic wizard around tonight at least.

Tordrad's Diary:

Day 40

I tire of sneaking and lying.

Why does wizard not let me cut, kill, enjoy?

Dieter is funny even his dog has warrior heart.

Saw Dieter feed it to him.

Ha.

Helped me perfect shashlik recipe.

Needed more heart.

They watched as the Halfling Tobias ran deftly around the corner and as they saw his shadow climb up the wall they entered the tavern.

The sudden smoky interior, created from the patron's cheap cigarettes and hefty pipes stung their eyes. Once they had recovered, they made straight for the bar.

Tordrad ordered two vodkas for himself, clutching them closely to his chest like a protective mother bird. The others began to acquaint themselves with the barman.

The halfling slowly pulled the window up and entered silently into the small room. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw he was standing in a small alchemy lab although he knew that this couldn't be possible. His mind took him back to a time long before now…

As the halfling sneaked forward, he saw that in the corner of the laboratory stood a small stove that had some strange green liquid bubbling away inside it. The room was empty but he knew how quickly that could change - better than any other. The halfling crept silently across the room searching for the notes he knew to be there. He knew instinctively that what he had come for was more important than what THEY had sent him here to find.

After a few moments of furious searching he found them, he found the paper work with the recipe for the elixir to crystallise crushed plant matter into diamonds. With what he came for tucked in his leather tunic he began to creep back towards the window and the freedom of the outside air when the door opened!

"What are you doing here? You know dad will tan your hide if he finds you in his laboratory" came a high-pitched query in a distinctly pompous tone. As the thief looked around he saw the silhouette of a person of similar height. Before he could respond, the blood in their chests froze when they heard the front door being unlocked and the sound of muffled voices beyond became more apparent.

Downstairs in the 'Sword and Flail' Maestro propped his arms up on the bar and leaned over catching the attention of the barkeep. "I know this might sound cliché my good man but they have reason to believe you have rats in your cellar. Maybe even of the talking kind – if you know what I mean?"

The ruddy-faced barman glanced around the room nervously, worried that this skinny but well dressed eccentric may harm the tavern's reputation.

Pointing a plump finger at the man, almost as if to see him better, the man defended the honour of his establishment, "Now I can asshure you, whoever you are --Hicc-- there are no rats here. Talking or otherwise --Hiccup--."

The man had the good sense to speak in a hushed tone but clearly he had sampled some of his own produce. Sensing this could be a problem Maestro subtly gave the winds of magic a jolt, casting a spell under his breath, as he weaved his hand under the counter he directed it into his staff. He firmly brought his staff down onto the wooden floor. There was then a series of squeaking sounds along with sudden scratching, as if from tiny claws. "Oh my word! Did you just hear that?" started Maestro, "we could deal with your little --cough-- problem here barkeep, discreetly of course. It seems to be a staple of adventurers to kill rats in basements anyway, or so I have heard."

Dieter aided Maestro's ploy, "Great idea Maestro, but I am sure the barkeep would be…" Dieter looked straight into the barman's somewhat glazed over eyes, "… grateful enough to offer us a drink - on the house." Dieter could sometimes have a convincing manner and there was something about his eyes this time that registered a tussle of willpower in the barman's subconscious mind – a tussle that he had no chance of winning.

Although he understood little of the conversation, the Kislevite understood the word "drink" and cheered. Without argument the barman led them past the bar and through the door to the back, past the staircase leading up to the rooms and stopped at the cellar door.

Dieter spotted a shadow at the top of the stairs and realised that Tobias was waiting up there for the opportune moment to rejoin the group.

After the landlord left to go back to his post, the halfling did indeed return to them carrying a number of artefacts - items that could only be for chaos worship. He was also attempting to conceal a very large pouch of money.

Dieter grinned like a shark, "So this man definitely knows what is going on here. From the looks of that pouch, he is being paid to keep quiet about it. What took you so long Tobias?"

Without waiting for a reply Dieter began to search the cellar, finding little of any real interest. Then they spotted Ulger pawing at a barrel and they realised the floor around it was cleaner than the rest of the rough hewn room.

"Dog good" said Tordrad.

Dieter walked over to the dog patting it gently. "Good work Ulger, here you go."

He gave the dog a strip of Beastman flavoured jerky to chew on while they moved the barrels out of the way.

As a group they moved down to the floor below via the iron runged ladder set in place to the wall. There they found themselves in a narrow corridor wide enough for only two. Dieter ordered the dog to remain above to safeguard against a rear ambush. They set off down the passageway.

After a minute or so of walking they spotted a light coming from an opening that suggested a room may be only a few yards ahead.

From Tordrad's Diary:

Day 40:

Doctor brave.

He approach clearing up front with me.

Something felt wrong.

Tunnel barely wide enough for me.

Good thing Dieter small.

Big presence for man so small.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 40:

Something about the clearing felt wrong. Like the winds of magic were being affected – persuaded almost, away from this place.

Good thing Tordrad was up front. I would get extra warning that something might try to kill me soon - especially if something killed him first.

I kept getting a feeling about Dieter. It was as though he was and yet was not there. I swear I even saw his shadow move a little before he did.

I must talk to Tobias if it continues. Perhaps I am becoming attuned to something going on with Dieter, something perhaps Dieter isn't even aware of yet.

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 40:

Dieter and Tordrad were always up the front together. Spoiling my fun like they feel I need to be protected. De'ath especially. The only upside is no foe will see me coming from behind their wide backs.

Extract from Rissandrea's diary:

Day 40:

Over Dieter's shoulders I could make out two robed figures with horrific mutations. They stood near an altar of bloody skulls and a side passage containing a caged man. I realised it had to be Johann Opfer who we had been tasked with finding. I need not have notified them as they ran headlong into battle as soon as they saw the saw the figures.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 40:

The time for action was again upon us. The robed pair was alerted to our presence by Tordrad's battle cry. Even as I rushed headlong towards the squat one with extended claws, I saw the Kislevite swinging his scimitar with the precision and accuracy of a surgeon. As good as his swings and thrusts were, my chest burned and does so again recalling it for this journal, with apprehension as the beast of a thousand teeth shot some thing from his body like a porcupine might shoot spines from its back. The spines gouged their way into the flesh of my comrade.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 40:

The Kislevite was in trouble and while I hesitated to approach any of the men before me, Shallya commands me so.

Extract for Tordrad's diary:

Day 40:

Strange crocodile man bite me with flying teeth.

Is weak fighter I think.

Have had hangovers with more pain but the holy girl rushed to me.

I let her do her job.

Dieter had already carved up claw man's arm. Their fight is over.

He is smart. Know to leave crocodile man to me.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 40:

While Tordrad and Dieter fought the mutants so well, I with Tobias snuck around to the antechamber and released the prisoner. By the time Johann Opfer stepped fearfully from the cage, the group had again joined us. I told them we should all leave before anything else happened and the group agreed.

We draped Tobias's cape around the injured man and let the halfling leave through the upper floor again. We got back to the cellar where Ulger greeted us warmly.

It was rather strange actually, when we entered the bar Dieter uttered something in his ear and the barman looked straight through the injured man with us as though he were not there. We left to head back to the trial while there was still time.

As they approached the temple, they were joined by Tobias once more.

The trial outside had already begun...


	15. Chapter 15

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Peter Davis-Parker

Second Treatment, plot co-ordinating, editing by Robert James Freemantle

_Based on the 2__nd__ edition WHFRP game chapter of the same name_

_This story contains spoilers for that book's (Ashes of Middenheim) adventure_

Chapter Fifteen

Trial of Fire Ablaze!

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 40

After I rejoined the group at the trial my mind kept wandering. I spent years trying to forget, but that tavern made the memories come back.

The past – The Moot –

A halfling, Jeremiah Wilwart walked through the laboratory door flanked by two halfling soldiers who had been posted to him to protect his secret experiments of military interest. They headed towards his study. As he rounded the thin corridor he saw his twin sons inside the room, the door opened wide.

"What? What is going on here. You both should know my study is off limits." he questioned.

The elder of the brothers – who was in fact only minutes older – shuffled uncomfortably. The other who was dressed in thieves garb spoke, "I needed to get the elixir you prepared father. You should not concern yourself though. You never cared for me before, only for your precious Tobias – and it was he who gave me the key. I fully intend to leave and you will never see me again."

Tobias checked his pocket for the key protesting as he did so. The key was nowhere to be found however until Frederick opened his palm. "You see father I have the elixir and your notes, lest you want me to destroy both I suggest you tell your dogs to let me pass." spat the younger of the two with venom dripping from his words, such was his hatred and jealousy.

Tobias struggled with a great internal conflict knowing why his brother had gone down the path that he himself had trodden long before. He knew that Frederick was a substance abuser now because... "Tobias" started Jeremiah, "what have you to say for yourself? How could you be so damned irresponsible? I thought you were done with that nonsense and now you have corrupted your brother it seems"

His thoughts interrupted, Tobias found himself without an answer. H_ow can I betray father, but if Frederick's condition is my own fault…_but before he could make his mind up Frederick pushed past him and their father. The older halfling struggled to restrain his son and took from him the vial. "Son I know the thieves' guild sent you for the recipe to the elixir and if it is so important to them, think what good it can do for this family."

With that, the old halfling took the recipe in hand and put it above a nearby bunsen burner flame. It burned up quickly. The two soldiers present gasped as Jeremiah continued, "You will not take this though, one day you will understand." Jeremiah put the vial back into his jacket. "Guards, take him away. Maybe a few days in the cells will give him time to detoxify his system from whatever foul substance lurks in his veins."

Later that evening a shadow was cast over the cells. "Oh, it's you. What do you want? Come to gloat?" Spat Frederick, at Tobias who made his way quietly into the area in front of his brother's cell with a look of greatest sorrow on his face.

Tobias only stared and began reaching into his pocket.

The present – Middenheim –

"Tobias is something the matter? You seem very deep in thought. Very unlike you." Dieter asked nudging the halfling's shoulder, a little harder than he would anyone else's.

Shaking his head violently as if chasing the thoughts from his mind Tobias answered distractedly, "Yes Dieter I am fine. That kind of concern isn't the norm for you though, is it?"

Dieter sneered at the halfling and swore under his breath. "I have a degree of concern for all of the group you little sneak-thief. Even you, but that doesn't mean you can keep trying to steal my wallet without consequence." taking back his wallet.

Dieter moved to the front of the group to see Maestro had already grabbed the attention of the mob and he had been hurriedly pushed forward to give testimony in the trial. He spoke remarkably well and produced the evidence when asked. If Dieter and the rest of the group were not present it would scarcely have been believed. When asked about the 'Sword and Flail' tavern, Maestro gestured for Tordrad to come forward, which the Kislevite did - protecting a man huddled underneath a cloak to conceal his face. The cloak was removed to reveal Johan Opfer who then gave testimony on stage of his investigation and subsequent capture.

Maestro rejoined the group and told them quietly, "Stolz seems glad that we got him back. Oh, how do you think I did?"

Dieter glanced up to the witness stand and then to the stocks where Bauer was being guarded more for his own safety than that of the so called jurors, who themselves were nothing more than an angry gang. "I dislike this entire trial. Something feels wrong here but I can't place it. You spoke remarkably well."

Rissandrea nodded in agreement as Dieter added, "It looks like you have a future as a public speaker." He then grinned at the thought of Maestro delivering a speech to a large crowd, being that the wizard was such a coward and usually had an inclination to blather on more than was necessary.

Somebody yelled that a dog had bitten their leg and Dieter looked down to see Ulger was still at his side. Another moaned that their wallet had been stolen and Dieter looked to see Tobias was no longer at his side. He sighed with aggravation. He had seen trials before and found them to be largely a formality. The judge and jurors had their minds made up long before the opening arguments had been concluded, for the most part as this trial was truly about one religion versus the other and each man present worshiped Ulric.

Maestro enthusiastically pointed, "Oh look, Liebnitz is calling the High Capitular Stolz himself to the stand. I don't believe they do that sort of thing normally. He must have some evidence. Perhaps the skuh..." Dieter clamped a hand over the wizard's mouth as a couple of people looked around and then looked back at the trial. Dieter removed his now damp hand as Maestro had finished his sentence even gagged.

Dieter hurriedly spoke to mask Maestro's muffled voice, "Mentioning such a thing here, now would be a bad idea. Such notifications would cause panic. We have seen one riot I would rather we not have another."

All Maestro could reply with was, "When was the last time you washed that hand, my man?"

Dieter ignored him.

Upon the stand, things were heating up, "Mr Stolz could you please verify whether an icon of Sigmar was recently stolen from your temple? Think carefully Mr Stolz." enquired Liebnitz, his tone official but with a hint of scorn for the man he had just called to the stand. The crowd yelled loudly at Bauer as Stolz's response was drowned out under the noise.

"Well Mr Stolz I suppose we have some good and bad news. Here is your icon, but why is there a symbol of Khorne engraved on the back?"

As he said this, Liebnitz turned the frame around for everybody to see. There clearly was a mark of the blood God present on it! After a moment of stunned silence, pandemonium erupted. The crowd began to riot in two groups - the followers of Ulric and the followers of Sigmar.

The resulting wave forced the party forward amongst the throng. Among the cries of 'BURN THE HERETICS!' and many others less repeatable, the city guard was called in and the officials retreated to the safety of their respective Temples. The group fought their way through the throng and back to some semblance of relative safety in the Temple of Ulric now. There were too many people in public view for anything else to happen to the group, they reasoned – and by this time, they were so annoyed at the process of corruption about them that they would have welcomed an attack by the guards. No one was stupid enough to try it, much to Dieter's dismay.

The group sat around the dining table where Father Odo had lost his life recently, or had it lost for him by one of the party's many bladed weapons after his chaos spawn transformation of course. Some of the group saw Dieter take a bite out of a herb wrapped bar which was filled with some dark substance.

"Dieter what the bally heck are you are eating my good man? Seems unlike anything I have seen before and I must say it has piqued my interest." Maestro leaned forward over the table expecting an answer when Rissandrea spoke up. "We are in the middle of a city wide riot and you are curious about Dieter's snacks. You are truly one of a kind Maestro Rophel Illefescion." to which he quickly added, "In the flesh" grinning sheepishly.

"Yes in the flesh." began Dieter, sounding put out in his voice he continued, "It's made from medicinal herbs and a small amount of gunpowder. It helps to keep the... the headaches at bay. Keeps me from doing things I might regret later. Alas, I think there is no cure for you though Maestro…"

The wizard smiled stupidly and mentioned, "Oh, magic is no problem anymore. Anything I need to know now is engineering related. Nothing a good spanner couldn't fix."

Dieter nodded with a sadistic internal thought showing on his face, "I couldn't agree more."

Maestro thought for a moment on what Dieter told him about the herb bar and was seemingly satisfied.

Rissandrea then asked out of concern, "What is it with your headaches? I have noticed them more often since you joined us - if you don't mind my asking."

Dieter sighed before taking another bite, "Head injury long ago have had them since., it is not important. Where the hell is Liebnitz? I want to get that skull destroyed and get out of here." Father Ranulf walked into the room with a small portable chest in his hands. By the way he was carrying it, it didn't appear to be very heavy.

The priest spoke to them, "I don't know where Liebnitz is but I have the skull right here. I need you to take it to Professor Zweistein, even though the city is under curfew." Maestro and Dieter looked each other in the eyes and both said together "OPEN THE BOX. I WANT TO SEE IT FIRST." The priest shuffled uncomfortably but did as asked. Upon opening the box the group found the skull was already missing. In its place was the severed head of Johann Opfer!

Father Ranulf looked horrified.

Maestro raised his eyebrows and squinted one eye.

Rissandrea gasped and closed her eyes in silent prayer.

Tobias picked another pocket nearby.

Tordrad stared at the water in his goblet and wished it was potato vodka.

"Knew it" said Dieter smugly.


	16. Chapter 16

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Peter Davis-Parker, Robert James Freemantle & Lory Cozens

Second Treatment, plot co-ordinating, editing by Robert James Freemantle

_Based on the 2__nd__ edition WHFRP game chapter of the same name_

_This story contains spoilers for that book's (Ashes of Middenheim) adventure_

Chapter 16

The Truth Will Out!

They had been forced to fall back to the Temple of Ulric, as the Temple of Verena had been sealed off after the riots had broken out. Of course this was after the magistrates and court officials were inside safely.

Justice was swift considered Maestro, swift at running away from danger.

Dieter Sneered, "Well I wonder do we have to deliver Opfer's severed head to Zweistein or can we just hunt down Liebnitz right now?"

Rissandrea looked paler than usual. After all the battles the group had fought she found it hard to close off her heart to the suffering of others, the seemingly innocent.

Dieter saw this and commented in his usual clinical tone, "Rissandrea if you can't handle the sight of a decapitated head, I suggest you leave the room while we figure out what to do now."

Tobias sighed and said, "Come now Dieter, not everyone has become as cold as Morr's embrace through the experience of death and chaos. The Shallyans are not accustomed." Now if Death and I are injured, came Tobias's sly thought as a follow up, perhaps she'll heal me first. He was sure to keep this thought inside his head. Dieter seemed to almost be trying to read the halfling's mind.

After a moment of tense silence during which Tordrad noisily drank the last of the water in his goblet pulling a face of disgust that it was not filled with alcohol, Tobias started, "I think Tordrad has the right idea. We sit down and think carefully on our next action. There is clearly something large afoot."

Maestro considered for a moment how large and hairy Tobias's feet were in fact, then gave himself an internal poke for getting off track from the serious business about them.

Father Ranulf stood in the corner as pale as a ghost as the group argued amongst themselves about what they might do next.

Rissandrea looked over at the corner and asked, "Oh Father? Father Ranulf, will these papers allow us to get to the city watch headquarters without fear of arrest? The turbulent trial has created a curfew after all."

The man just stayed in the corner staring off into space as Dieter approached the holy man ready to shake him out of his self induced trance he spoke. "Yes they should do. What will you say to them though? How will you find Liebnitz?"

Liebnitz was clearly nowhere to be seen and none of the staff knew of his whereabouts - that much they knew. They also knew it was very possible that he had barred himself inside the main hall because the entranceway had been sealed off and the doors closed. Not even the Temple staff were able to gain access to it.

Dieter and his dog were already walking towards the door ignoring the man's question. The rest followed as Maestro replied to the priest, "Don't worry yourself with details my good man. We'll make it up as we go along – It's what we always do."

Father Ranulf was not assured by that response. Maestro wasn't trying to assure him though. He would have felt insulted if someone had suggested he had done as much, at that.

As they left the building the wizard mumbled under his breath, "Thank goodness we are out of there. Now we have more religious trouble. Where will it end?"

Dieter ignored the question which he only half heard, thinking to himself that something felt wrong with the situation, more so than earlier even.

Rissandrea had learnt to not take Maestro's words to heart. She knew he didn't mean them about her order…or at least not her order specifically. He didn't mean any harm, that was the main thing…

The group made their way around the edges of the Temple. Dieter looked down at his dog padding slowly alongside them and noticed that the halfling was not there. Looking round back toward the building he saw Tobias with his ear to the Temple wall. "Hey rat bait. What are you doing over there?" began Dieter with hostility at the fore, "If you can't behave, why not sit back down in the spring loaded trap in front of my pantry?"

Tobias acted as if he hadn't heard the man. He was wearing his black leather garb and his robes were nowhere to be seen. This wasn't a good sign thought Rissandrea, as she looked up at the moons in the sky, wearing a look of uncertainty on her pretty face.

Dieter pressed on with his enquiry whispering as loud as he could, "Get away from the wall before you attract undue attention."

Maestro looked back to find out what had attracted the ire of Dieter and saw the physician in training striding toward the magically void master wizard, his machete unsheathed.

Maestro ignored the need to be quiet, quite deliberately and loudly asking, "Tobias what in the winds are you doing over there against the wall? Did you forget a tome or something? We can get it on the way back but right now we are heading to the watch, remember?"

This actually got the thief's attention and with the best possible luck not the attention of any guards. Tobias replied sharply, "Quiet fool wizard, before you give away my position. There is a room on the other side of this wall."

The rest of them seemed clearly unimpressed.

"This is not the time to think of thievery Tobias…" stated Rissandrea, "Besides, the watch patrols could find us at any moment."

"Forget the watch" snapped Tobias, "there could be valuable information in there." The group shared a glance as Tobias continued, "Tell me, do you remember a room leading off from the hallway that leads to the contemplation area?"

The group looked puzzled, all except Tordrad who couldn't understand so simply didn't care. Maestro answered, "Actually, well no there were no doors there…"

Tobias smirked in a self assured manner. Even as his alter-ego self he was as smug as could be, "Then why is there a room on the other side of that door? It bugged me when I was in there and I wanted to check from this side."

"But if there are no doors there, how could there possibly be a room?" started Rissandrea, "perhaps you're mistaken?"

The thief put his face in his palm, exasperated by the stupidity of these people he found himself in the company of every night. Come to think of it, he didn't quite know why they just turned up every night as they did. He tried not to think about it, seeing as the places they ventured led to profitable outcomes.

Tobias frowned one side of his face sarcastically, "If there is no room here then how do you explain that faint illumination coming from the blacked out window up there?"

It was only after he pointed the window out to them that it occurred to the rest of the group that he must be right. They all passed where that window would be and all recalled seeing no window since in fact they had only remembered seeing a fireplace and miniature sitting area in the side passage near that spot.

Dieter looked down at the halfling with menacing eyes, "I agree Tobias, it is suspicious but we all agreed and that includes you, you sawed off runt that we go to the watch and get back up."

Tordrad grasped at his scimitar as a guard rounded the corner and stared in their direction before moving on. By some God or another's grace (it would depend who you spoke to – except Maestro of course) the man's lantern failed to penetrate the deep shadow cast by the height of the Temple. The halfling thief stated arrogantly, "Fine you lot go to the watch, but I am going in. everything I steal I get to keep for myself."

With that, Tobias swung his grappling hook up and in through the small window which broke and sent some black glass tinkling down around them. Tobias began to climb up the wall. The rest of the group watched as he wriggled through the hole and then darkness and silence was all they perceived from the other side.

As the group turned to leave they felt concern for the halfling, even Dieter - although he would never admit it – plus that was for his own reasons anyway… But knowing that he could take care of himself they decided that hanging around was a bad idea.

At night at least when Morrslieb sat high and bloated in the sky above on this, seemingly the longest night since they had come together as a group Tobias would become a different person altogether. The peculiar illumination above them attested that the green moon sat very high indeed

"Oy! Are you lot coming or not" Tobias asked suddenly from above, his head poking out from the now fully opened window. He was lightly tugging at a line of rope attached to the large hook indicating for them to climb up. "It's a secret passage and I can hear chanting at the other end. It sounds like Liebnitz is in there. I heard a lot of hot air with words around it"

Sounds like him, thought Dieter.

Tordrad led the way up the rope. His years of military service made it look easy.

Rissandrea watched the Kislevite climb and considered that if need be he probably could have sheered the wall without the rope!

Rissandrea and Maestro both struggled up the rope next. It was decided they would both go together. Maestro went before the Shallyan stating, "It would be improper to be below a lady in this position." Rissandrea nodded accepting his reason, except it was a lie. Maestro's internal reasoning was that if he might fall, he would have something to soften his landing.

Maestro's weak arms struggled to support his weight.

"Gosh" he said in embarrassment, "a few less cream cakes at the next bakery I think."

"How about none at all?" stated Dieter.

"No, a few less." Corrected Maestro quickly.

He was nearly at the top and started thinking about cakes. He could really murder a cake right now. No he thought! That would only be more weight on this rope. It was a great effort as it was! Perhaps half a cake, he decided. Yes half a cake. He started envisioning a nice half cream cake that just so happened to be double the size of standard cakes. Perfect he thought. Within moments though, even this comforting vision stopped helping him as he saw his make believe cake oozing with blood instead of jam. Yes, he thought, perhaps 'murder a cake' was not the best term to put out there in this stressful situation they were heading into.

He pushed these mad thoughts out of his head and kept climbing as fast as he could. Once he had reached the top and been pulled through the opening by Tobias, he looked down to see Rissandrea was right below him. He had been delaying her climb below him!

Rissandrea made it with Tordrad pulling her up the last few feet, one muscled sinewy arm extending down out of the window to bring her into the room with ease.

At last it was Dieter's turn, he had written a note to the city's watch with regards to the location of Liebnitz and the present situation they now embarked on, placing it on the dog's collar. With but a tap on its head, the dog bounded through the shadows to deliver the message.

Dieter scaled the rope. The others noticed that he was a lot more nimble than his limping gait and weighted reassurance upon his walking stave suggested.

As Dieter reached the window he realised why they had not heard a drop from the other side. The window was actually an escape route designed in case of a siege. A small and still rolled up rope ladder sat below the window just inches off the floor between the inner and outer wall.

Glaring at the halfling Dieter struck him about the head with the back of his hand. "There was a ladder. Why did you make us climb a flimsy rope?"

The halfling had no answer and so carried on down the overly narrow corridor they had found themselves in, without retaliation either, which Rissandrea considered odd.

The corridor was wide enough for only single file and the group almost tripped over each other trying to decide which order to walk in.

Tobias indicated for the group to follow him. Rissandrea cast a nervous look back to Dieter who just waved her forward impatiently. It worried her how his mood could change almost as suddenly as a lightning strike.

Before long, they came to the end of the narrow barely lit corridor and to what appeared to be a dead end.

Placing his ear to the door, the halfling heard nobody on the other side and pushed down on a lever that the others hadn't spotted. It was coloured the same tone as the wall itself. This secret door slid open to reveal another winding corridor on a slight decline. They could all hear the chanting now but only Maestro could understand it. It was dark, tongue the language of chaos.

"Maestro, do you understand the words? What is he chanting about?" asked Dieter in a hushed tone. The group huddled together expectantly awaiting the wizard's reply.

"Oh you know. The usual 'oh mighty Khorne' speech, 'accept these offerings' that kind of thing. At least that is the gist. I can not make out the rest. Sorry." The group nodded in understanding and drew their weapons before progressing slowly down the corridor. Even though Tordrad couldn't understand the words being spoken he understood that chaos worshipers were here. He understood that he could be forced to kill all of them! The idea of this appealed to him somehow.

As they got near the end of the corridor Dieter stepped to the fore blocking Tordrad and Tobias. Before they could question why he had done so, a shadow appeared around the corner approaching cautiously and Dieter shoved his surgical blade into the exposed abdomen of the Brother of the Axe. A maniacal devotee of the dark lord Khorne evidently serving as a guard here.

Before a drop of blood could spill, Dieter using the leverage and angle of the blade pulled the man still skewered out of the hallway, keeping his body against the wall to offset his weight.

Another shadow appeared. This time cautiously as his comrade had made a strange sound around the corner. The guard then saw a splash of blood on the nearby wall and began to reach for his large axe. Dieter stepped in front of the red clad armoured man and casually slit his throat from ear to ear, side stepping to avoid the arterial spray as he said, "We are clear, for now."

The group gaped at the site before them. They had all been in many battles alongside Dieter. Until now however they had not seen his medical expertise come to play in such a violent manner. "What?" he asked defensively, "We came here to do a job. Sometimes that means saving lives; sometimes it means taking them. I doubt there's anything else between us and the exit."

Dieter in fact knew there were three more soldiers to come before they could reach the secret door that led out of the area. He also realised how close he had come to letting rage take over. His blood was boiling hotter than was usual for him.

As they began to move again, Tordrad saw the three guards on their side of the entrance which led to the heart of this place.

Drawing his scimitar the Kislevite charged into battle without a word whilst Tobias loaded his crossbow and muttered "Well you can't always be right doctor."

Dieter sneered and drew a throwing dagger he had taken from the skaven lair, pitching it at the guard on the right. The dagger flew through the air and sunk into the wood of the wall behind the guard. This distracted the man long enough though for Tordrad to smash his shield into his face. There was a satisfying crack as the nose broke and knocked the guard out.

Dieter rushed forward on his cane, Machete in hand ducking to avoid the bolt that sank into the knee of the guard in the centre.

"Aim a little higher next time and perhaps you'll succeed in actually hitting me" shouted Dieter back at the halfling.

Maestro saw the third guardsman pull out a throwing axe and said aloud, "I don't think I want you doing that!" The wizard had channelled the winds of magic around him very quickly indeed, as he focused on the axe handle and uttered the incantations necessary to wrap the weapon itself in magic overweighing it in the man's hands. As the man attempted to throw it, it fell in a downwards ark digging in to his femoral artery. Grinning at this Dieter kicked the handle of the axe, pushing it deep enough to almost sever the limb before swiping his machete to the left where the halfling's target had been only moments prior, only to find the man cut to ribbons.

The halfling was stood above him, a grin on his face as he cockily stated, "What took you so long? That thing slows you down" gesturing to the cane.

Before Dieter could allow the spiteful thought to be born, the two of them looked over at Tordrad distracted by a loud slurping sound, as he was leaning back against the wall drinking from his flask.

Dieter looked at Tobias and smiled. The halfling almost thought he looked as if he was being nice. That couldn't be right he thought. Dieter confirmed it and said, "Well midget freak, at least I didn't get cut." Dieter pointed at Tobias's elbow which was bleeding. He hadn't even realised, so sharp must the blade had been. He then considered if perhaps Dieter had done this to him while they were looking at Tordrad. No, surely not he decided -surely not.

The sound of fanatical chanting was loud now.

At this time elsewhere in the Temple, staff members were in the foyer now amassed at the great locked doors that led into the main hall. Worried attempts were being made to get the doors open. They would not budge though.

The group saw a small door ahead of them. It had no handle and only the slightest indication of being an opening from the slight indentation into the wall.

Dieter pushed on the door that lead out of this passage where the group stood open mouthed staring in shock at the scene before them.

A section of wall within the great hall had opened inwards straight onto an adorning thick cloth with religious symbols on it that hung on the wall. Suddenly the shape of Dieter could be seen through the cloth followed by a blade that plunged out of the holy writings near the lower side which tore across and made a hole through which the group stepped out from.

Liebnitz was standing in the centre of a group of five kneeling Brothers of the Axe, a dagger in his right hand and the brass skull, the evil item that had been the route of all this mess around his neck! They had been used all along, used to recover the skull! Rissandrea felt sick through to her stomach at this.

Liebnitz was speaking in dark tongue and raised the dagger high above his head, bringing it down straight into the heart of the man in front of him who willingly allowed his life to be taken.

Rissandrea brought a hand to her mouth and her eyes went wide, Tordrad clenched his fists and he began to shake slightly with rage, Tobias took a step backwards in shock. As Liebnitz did the act a look of disgust on his face Dieter frowned and thought about how it was such a sloppy performance, that he could have done a better job of it.

Maestro raised an eyebrow quickly calculating the expected size of the daemon from the ritual being performed, for such rituals were known to him, even if not practiced.

He considered how far he could get if he made a run for it, especially if the summoned monstrosity ate one of the others first. Of course it would be better if it was Tobias and it would be just his luck if it didn't eat that damnable book that he was writing. On a positive note however, this would all be good material for his own book – covering the subjects of daemons and how to protect against them- he had been writing since their encounter with the portal in Altdorf.

Rissandrea was quick to point out, "Gentlemen I believe considering our opponents, that spilling their blood at this juncture would cause use more trouble in the long term. It would be wise to avoid doing that, for this is a sacrifice after all..."

"Yes we don't want a portal opening up and Maestro utilizing another drop spell making it explode." Dieter added much to the aforementioned wizard's growing annoyance at this topic's repetition once more.

"I only did that once Dieter!" Maestro jabbed his staff at the trainee physician."But yes I agree with Rissandrea on this" continued the wizard, "Sacrificial ceremonies and blood get on just like a house on fire."

Tobias piped up, "This is all well and good but, I don't think your shaved ape is paying any attention to us right now"

Liebnitz in the time leading up to now had killed all but two of the Brothers of the Axe, these two remaining members saw the angered Kislevite rush forwards, his scimitar and shield at the ready, his mind set on eliminating them all.

Liebnitz pointed at them, "Destroy them, they must not interfere!"

The two men grabbed the great axes lying on the floor nearby and went to intercept them.

Dieter and Tobias also moved forward catching up with Tordrad.

Dieter snapped at the halfling, "Midget, get that damn Skull!"

Tobias rolled his eyes at Dieter's words but knew that this was a sound plan and he moved ahead as the four men clashed with the brotherhood guards who stepped in to protect the ceremony.

As they fought, Tobias made his way around the chamber behind Liebnitz and kicked the man in the back of his knee making him fall forwards. In the confusion, the skull flew off of his neck and clattered onto the ground. The halfling gave chase to it but Liebnitz caught up with him in two large strides cutting him off.

Tordrad barely dodged to the left as one of the Brothers of the Axe made a swipe with the weapon that derived from their title, the blow coming within barely half an inch of connecting with the Kislevite's neck.

In retaliation Tordrad lashed out with his scimitar almost severing the head of his opponent in one fell swoop. A second was not needed.

Dieter ran his opponent through with his machete, moving with remarkable speed to avoid the incoming blows.

Maestro, noticing Liebnitz had now cornered Tobias with a sacrificial dagger poised to strike spoke the lines to what was probably his most well practiced petty magic incantation – a drop spell.

The Dagger fell from Liebnitz's grip and into the awaiting hands of the halfling who then used the faux priest of Ulrich's knee as a step to grant him more reach and slashed at his throat. Liebnitz fell backwards blood gushing from his neck, a hand grasping at the wound in a vain attempt to stop the flow.

Rissandrea held a hand to her mouth at the carnage that took place so quickly. After a few seconds, she was able to regain her voice and asked, "Where is the skull?"

They looked around the room only to see the skull sitting in a pool of blood, an evil red glow surrounding it and growing brighter as it seemed to absorb the blood into it.

A shockwave of invisible energy hit the group making them stumble as the red light became so bright that it blinded them.

A roar echoed around the room and as the light faded, the party could see the manifested form of the daemon of the skull.

This was not just any of daemon but a daemon Prince of Khorne! A Monstrous form that exuded a threat to their lives with all of its essence. With each ominous breath it took it seemed as if it sucked oxygen out of the room, the very air they tried to breathe. Its shadow reached to the roof of the temple as the beast towered over them and screamed triumphantly at being set free.

Tordrad was first to recover as he rushed forwards. He was stopped as the daemon batted him away sending him flying into a pillar, his weapons sent scattering around it.

Tobias fared no better as he was kicked aside, an action that sent him rolling towards the famed flame of Ulrich! The very flame that had caused Archaon's armies to invade the Empire.

The halfling's cranium made contact with the stonework section below the flame as consciousness left him at once.

The holy flame flared as if in protest at the force of evil intruding on this holy place.

The great beast then focused its attention on Maestro, who it started to walk towards.

Maestro could see his own reflection in the daemon's black eyes like a fly caught in a spider's web. The wizard's own fearful expression made him even more scared as it reminded him of how much trouble he was in.

The sound of gunfire brought Maestro to his senses as a bullet followed by a brilliant beam of light tore through the daemon's right shoulder. The red skinned winged beast turned to look as Rissandrea held the still smoking pistol pointed directly at it, "Don't just stand there" protested the holy woman, "Shallya heals those that help themselves."

"Well I don't plan on getting hurt - I don't want to owe anyone, especially a Goddess." came the wizard's reply. He raised a hand, his fingers outstretched and crackling with azyr force.

After what seemed like an eternity, a concentrated bolt of lightning shot from Maestro's hand and flew towards daemon.

As the aethyric energy lashed towards the daemon, it breathed out an oppressive plume of air so dense that it could be physically seen and the space between Maestro and the huge beast shimmered in response.

The spell began to lose its power as it travelled closer, as if the very essence of the daemon suppressed the winds of magic. This caused it to writhe in mid air. If an observer watched it in slow motion they would have seen it coil like an angered serpent before rapidly dissipating away at the edges.

A miniature crackling sound was all that could be heard and a strand no bigger than a thimble was all that reached its target. As it made contact with the creature's cheek it fizzled away pathetically.

Maestro stood in place, arms outstretched in his casting position but also trembling slightly, "Oh… well that wasn't helpful..."

Dieter looked at the wizard and shook his head before dashing forwards and slashing at the daemon, attempting to sever the achilles tendon on one of its feet as it began to stride towards the still standing members of the group.

Dieter dodged a fist that came at him, side-stepping to the right more nimbly than a man with his physical inconveniences should have.

Dieter counter attacked with his machete, striking into the right foot of the overly large foe. This made the daemon stumble forward seemingly losing its balance.

But suddenly it began walking properly again as if it had adjusted to the damage it had taken.

Rissandrea took another step backwards until she walked into the wall. Her shots had been doing damage, but the creature seemingly didn't care, so strong was its life force. The holy devotee was frozen there in absolute astonishment. A roar of spite from the daemon jolted her out of her frightened dilemma and she spoke loudly to the trainee physician, "That's impossible; no man could walk properly after that."

Dieter replied, "Were this only a man."

Tordrad pulled himself up. His body ached as he placed a hand on the side of his head. It hurt but he'd had hangovers worse than this, though now was not the time to be thinking of anything but the battle. One mistake could cost his client's death – could cost his OWN death!

He shook off the blur in his vision and looked towards where he reckoned the daemon to be. A massive red shape confirmed that he was looking in the right direction.

The daemon let out a roar that seemed to goad Tordrad to attack. His anger was somehow reacting to the bestial challenge from the creature as a maddening rage rose within him - the likes of which he had not felt since he was seventeen. Something buried deep within him was responding, as if pulling on his internal chains of self control. Tordrad was determined to keep a tight hold on those chains at all costs.

One hand still remained on his head as if he was concentrating on keeping his anger at bay. His other was keeping him upright holding onto the pillar that he had been thrown into.

He punched the pillar with the same hand leaving an indentation slightly in the stonework. There was pain but he didn't care about that right now – the pain helped him come to his senses.

Memories of what happened the last time he let himself get this angry began to trickle down into his forward consciousness, no matter how hard he tried to push them back. He could still remember the blood, the screams of the people that tried to stop him but he wondered if they too had also ended up as victims to his rage. Still these taunting thoughts echoed through his mind as if they were driving him on from some external source.

The daemon had indeed been influencing Tordrad's mind, using his gifts of Khornite legacy to make the most hothead male in the vicinity feel the rage and desire to kill. It knew that if it made Tordrad let go of his control that he would be an easy subject to manipulate, perhaps turning him against his allies.

Tordrad again shook off the feeling that tried to seep down through his skull with an uncomfortable feeling like an unexpected rain drop down the back. He looked around at the state of his party, desperately seeking motivation enough to summon the strength required to face this monster. There he saw Tobias laying unconscious on the floor, slumped against the great flame's base. He saw Rissandrea, against the wall wearing a look of pure fear upon her expression. He saw Dieter hiss and curse his luck. He saw Maestro was looking right towards him with a fear in his eyes and yet also a small gleam of hope, of reliance on the Kislevite's strength - as if there was still a chance.

Tordrad took a deep breath and knew that now was not the time. He pushed his anger back down and after a couple of seconds smiled with renewed confidence as he rushed forwards into the fray.

He grabbed the spear that was stuck blade first in-between two flagstones and kept moving.

As soon as he reached the furniture he planted one foot on a chair and forced his entire body up onto the long table that ran a long way across the hall.

Bowls and cups were smashed and sent flying; cutlery bounced and bent beneath his huge feet as the Kislevite moved as fast as possible along the length of the table.

As he reached the end of the table he made a charging leap, using the momentum of his run to propel himself towards the daemon.

With both hands grasping the spear, he raised it above his head and said a prayer as he closed the gap "Tor I beseech you, if I am to fall to this creature may I fall like a tower upon it and crush its bones so that the others may finish what I have started!"

He slammed the head of the spear into the beast's back, piercing the flesh and searing it as the power flowing through the weapon unleashed itself upon the daemon - causing it to writhe in pain.

Tordrad was thrown off, the spear no longer in his hands but still lodged in the creature's back - he landed next to Maestro who had a silly grin on his face as he spoke, "Glad you could make it my man."

Rissandrea shook off both her fear and Maestro's nonchalant approach to the situation, "If this is the trail of my faith you have set me upon Shallya, then I fear the enormity of the task you prepare me for."

Dieter shot back "Instead of thinking of what she needs you to do girl, try focusing on the here and now and let Maestro deal with the future sight."

She sighed and pointed her gun at the Daemon Prince once more then pulled the trigger - only for it to not fire!

I'm becoming too caught up in this situation, I'm panicking to my detriment, thought Rissandrea as she realised she hadn't reloaded. She looked around hurriedly for something to use as she knew her quarterstaff would probably just break against the beast's hide. Her eyes fell upon Tobias's crossbow still loaded with a bolt, it was however quite a distance from her and who knows what would happen to the group if she took her eyes off them for one second, but she had to risk it.

Tordrad was unarmed, but that didn't matter to him as he had wrestled bears back in his native land and surprisingly, he was able to keep out of the creature's way. Its slow movements made it easy to predict and adjust to attacks, each swipe of which could kill a normal man in one shot.

He was unable to hurt it by just trying to punch it but most of his weapons were scattered on the ground so he made do with what he had. He would never give up.

Dieter used the opportunity to get behind the daemon and begin slicing away at it and then moving back before it could connect a retaliatory swipe.

Rissandrea had managed to grab the crossbow and while still moving she prayed under her breath, "Oh dearest Shallya, I must ask for the help of another while we are guest in his house." She ran around to the other side of the great flame, took aim and squeezed the trigger mechanism, propelling the bolt though the fire and out through the other side, the point of the bolt being the only part that had caught ablaze - but the way it burnt was intense, as if glowing with white heat.

Meanwhile the daemon swung an arm around, finally able to grab Dieter and threw him aside into Tordrad knocking both men over.

It then turned its attention back to Maestro who tripped over his robes as he tried to retreat backwards and realised he had nowhere to run and no one to hide behind. Blast it, he thought, if only I had been a master engineer I could have shot this thing with augmented bullets of killification! He knew that wasn't a word, but he liked it anyway.

The beast was now towering over him, ready to deliver a final blow to the foolish mortal that dared to stand against it.

Rissandrea's aim was spot on and as the bolt impacted squarely into the creature's chest, cracks spread outwards from the entry point. The cracks began to glow with a holy light as the daemon let out a last roar of defiance, its corporeal form shattered and thus banishing its spirit back to the aethyr, the spear that was lodged in its back fell to the ground, the sharp pointed end landing in-between Maestros legs.

Maestro let out a sigh of relief as he stood up and dusted himself down, before smacking himself in the head with his palm, "Oh now I remember what I forgot to do, I didn't ask for its true name!"

The sound of laughter mixed with coughing interrupted his thoughts on the matter.

"Fool… you think it to be that easy to defeat the will of the blood god?" Liebnitz chuckled as blood slowly trickled out of his mouth, "All you succeeded in doing was sending back but a fragment of my master's true form to the heart of chaos!" a wide grin evident on his face.

The group had gathered around the dying man. Even Tobias was awake now nursing his head, "Well obviously we can't kill a daemon like that."

Maestro was agitated at the fact his knowledge of magic was being questioned but continued, "But get to the blasted point already I've had enough of your religious jabbering to last a lifetime, no offence" he spoke the last part in Rissandrea's direction. She ignored it.

Liebnitz just laughed again causing him to cough more severely, "Then you truly don't know of the other two relics holding the remaining fragments of his power?"

Before they could answer however he stated, "When the three are brought together, Xathrodox the Red Flayer shall return and bathe this world in the blood of the weak! Blood for the Blood God! Blood…" he never finished as his body finally gave in to the blood loss and collapsed onto the floor.

Before anyone had a chance to speak, the fire of Ulrich erupted and filled the entire room with silvery-white flames, consuming the corpses of the cultists but leaving the adventurers unharmed.

A voice resounded in their heads. It spoke, "You who have protected my Temple, spread word to others to put aside their strife as the true enemy of man is confronted. Let this mark be a sign to all."

Moments later, a white scar had appeared on each of their right hands bearing the symbol of the white wolf holding a hammer in its forepaws. They stared in surprise at the small but impressively detailed design present on each of them.

Dieter sighed as he looked at the mark and shook his head. Oh great another bloody tattoo, he thought.


	17. Chapter 17

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Lory Cozens

Second Treatment, plot co-ordinating, editing by Robert James Freemantle

Chapter 17

A Plot to Steal, to Steal a Plot

As the flame of Ulrich died down after cleansing the Temple of Khornite worshippers - from an enveloping flame that washed around everyone present - all of the doors to the main hall were finally breached by the large crowds outside.

Leading the group was Father Ranulf, High Capitular Stolz, Watch Commander Ulrich Schutzmann and a new face, a tall man with short brown hair and green eyes. He wore a huge great sword upon his back and was adorned in expensive looking full plated mail. A religious symbol of Verena was clearly etched onto a large ring on his right hand.

Rissandrea who was treating Tordrad's wounds at this point looked up, as the expression on her face made it clear that she knew who the newcomer was. As she finished using both her medical knowledge and her lesser divine healing powers channelled through prayer, she set about cleaning the less life threatening wounds, keeping out any chance of infection from the Plague Lord.

Maestro and Tobias were explaining the events leading up to and the aftermath of the fight to the interested officials who had gathered.

Dieter was patting Ulger absentmindedly.

Rissandrea was engaged in inspecting the back of Tobias's skull, as he had taken quite the blow earlier.

Tordrad was dulling the pain from his wounds that were now bandaged, with a swig of vodka from his flask. He was totally oblivious to the intense conversation going on around the room right then. All he cared about was that the daemon was at last defeated and if it showed up again he would send it right back to the pit it crawled out from.

Father Ranulf pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes in thought; the words of the unofficial journeyman wizard had begun to sink in. He took a deep breath before speaking, "Although I believe what you say is true, religion is a touchy subject, especially for those that are truly devout."

Maestro waved a hand dismissively, chirping up in a holier than thou manner, "Well that's not the kind of thing I'd expect to hear from a man of the cloth."

"Aren't you also man of the cloth as well Maestro?" Dieter asked looking around at Rissandrea, who was still attending to Tobias.

The wizard sighed "Dieter my man, do not confuse garbs of mad zealots with the robes of the enlightened order of thinking minds – Besides, religion is all just mad politics and fear like any other business."

The majority of the room turned their faces towards Maestro aghast in disbelief.

Rissandrea shook her head, "Now is not the time to be talking about people's beliefs, but rather what we need them to believe in order to keep the peace."

Ranulf nodded, "As far as people should be concerned this was a ploy by the ruinous powers to divide us while we're weakened and as such I must ask you all to not mention what happened here."

The group were forced to agree and were not allowed to leave until they had.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 40

Well this has certainly been an odd night and I had hoped to be done with religion, but then fate wouldn't want that and I knew it. A man approached us and I could see with my magical sensitivity the powerful energy that flowed off of him, it wouldn't take a celestial wizard to tell this would only lead us to more trouble.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 40

Had I expected that we would encounter Brother Tristran of the warrior sect of Verena, I would have approached the temple before now and enquired for his help in our investigations. He always has a sense of justice and the need to uncover the truth, but now it seems he has come to ask for my aid. I dare say I will grow more intrigued to what needs to be done the more I learn of it.

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 40

Magic is women's domain in Kislev and religion is mostly men! Sometimes I will see women, but only those that worship Dazh, as preserving the hearth is the duty of the house. But here in the Empire they do not care about who is in what position, least of all who is their ruler. Their Sigmar left no heir and they must vote for who is their Emperor from one of the counts. They even fight about which God is the stronger and should be worshiped more and now this man comes up to us. Rissandrea says he is a warrior priest, if he is warrior and priest then hopefully he knows which end of the blade he carries is which.

Extract form the dairy of Tobias:

Day 40

Now it's a priest of the Goddess of justice petitioning for our help, or rather for Rissandrea's help which of course means we will need to follow her to make sure she's safe. This means I will have to be extra careful…with justice breathing down the back of my neck. Why…why did I write that? How strange.

Extract from the dairy of Dieter:

Day 41

I didn't sleep a wink last night, which I am grateful for, I get a feeling that Verena has sent her agents to evaluate my progress. This Tristran fellow seems rather intriguing however. I get this odd feeling from him, like he seems too pure in spirit. I don' know how else to describe it but it puts me at great unease. I've never felt anything like this from the Shallyan.

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 41

We were to meet this Tristran at one of the streets on the west side of city, something about plague blockades. I wonder why we must go where plague is said to be in abundance! I do not want to die like coward on a sick bed but rather with blade in hand on the battlefield! But something seems wrong with this supposed plague, especially since it's in the district with the Goddess that is meant to administer healing for such aliments.

Extract form the Diary of Rissandrea:

Day 41

The Westgate-Sudgarten. Apparently there is plague here - as such the district has been quarantined off and only those accompanied by a Shallyan priestess are allowed to enter. However if memory serves there should be a temple of Shallya in this district, so this should be under their jurisdiction, however High Priestess Evina Klug of the Verenan temple had even forbidden Tristran from following his investigation into the area, meaning he needed to gain the aid of a Shallyan from outside of the city. I was of course more than happy to be of aid, but I fear my companions are not so pleased with the idea of having been dragged along.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 41

Another day, another problem. It almost seems like trouble is following me or perhaps we are the ones following trouble. In either event, I get the feeling that we're heading towards something that doest really concern us. But the more experience I gain out here the quicker I can head back home to all of my comforts and gadgets I suppose. I do so miss a good tinkering!

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 41

This does not seem right, if plague was in this area then shouldn't the doors be marked with something to show which houses are infected? It could be possible that the houses further in could be the only ones, but even so that would not give rise to the need to quarantine the entire district, maybe just a few streets at most.

I need to get some answers out of someone in this street.

Extract form the diary of Tordrad:

Day 41

Dieter seem curious with door across street, began shouting at person inside. I did not understand but he look funny doing it, he look even more funny when he put his blade to man's throat as he answer door. We allowed inside house, Dieter want to look round and while he does, silly wizard say he see something outside.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 41

Then we were hearing that the Shallyans hadn't even sent people to this house yet. Why would they declare a quarantine of the whole district without even checking to see how far it had spread, I'd say that's pretty careless personally, but that's what belief in gods will get you. Another odd thing is the man in robes hiding in the alley outside, he seems to be looking directly at the door of this house - I wonder what mess we're in now.

Extract form the diary of Tobias:

Day 41

Maestro says he saw a man outside in an alleyway and that he is looking towards this house. This was rather strange of course, but nothing that warrants our attention, could just be a thief staking the place out waiting for the right time to empty the place of everything of value. Just the type of thing we should alert the watch to rather than anything else.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 41

I had the owner show me around, I don't trust him however and I don't trust this situation. There is indubitably more going on here. I suspect the priest's suspicions are correct about a thieves' guild in the area. It's probably filled with short assed halfling bastards like our one. I of course checked the floor under the carpet and of course there was a loose floorboard, which I found housed a lever. The owner said he didn't know anything about it. I of course did not believe him and as I pulled the lever I heard a click come from behind the wardrobe.

With some effort Dieter and Tristran we're able to lift the wardrobe aside to reveal a door.

Tristran sighed, "Always behind a bookcase, fireplace or wardrobe, people are lacking in imagination these days don't you think Dieter?"

Dieter was busy lighting a lamp but forced himself to reply, "Those are not the best places when they are overused so much, I would have chosen something a little more inconspicuous."

"You sound like you've done this before." The warrior priest stated sounding slightly suspicious of the man in front of him.

Dieter smirked but didn't reply and just motioned the owner of the house to go first. He knew this man was in on whatever was going on here and he intended to find out what it was.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 41

I worry about what we will find here. I'm also worried about Dieter; he seems really on edge today, more so than usual that is. Tristran is very relentless in the same way as Malvanius was, but he possesses a kinder spirit than the witch hunter captain - although I would not want to be the subject of either one of their investigations.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 41

We made our way down a passageway, on a slight incline that slowly began to level itself out as we progressed. As we got further down we began to hear the sound of voices and sharp instruments on stone, Rissandrea commented that it sounded like dwarfish pickaxes. I do not know how she would know such a thing.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 41

Dieter and Rissandrea are taking their time. I'd prefer to get this out of the way as quickly as possible. If I could I would have already left Middenheim and been on my way somewhere else. This city has too much in the way of troubles with Gods, be they good or evil. Give me an engineering workshop any day over an altar.

Extract from the Diary of Rissandrea:

Day 41

We came across a small cavern at the end of the tunnel, in this cavern we found five men dressed in black outfits who I suspect are thieves. Also there were three dwarfs, chains on their wrists and ankles. This was of even greater surprise to me.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 41

Halfling or dwarf it does not matter to me, they're both runty blowhards in their own right. I did enjoy seeing them chained up though - although judging from the look on the girl's face, it appears I may have to deal with this situation before she gets herself hurt. She cannot heal me if she is healing herself…

Dieter sighed and took a step forward, lantern in one hand and machete in the other pointed threateningly at one of the men, "Answer my questions and I might consider healing you when I'm done."

The men looked at each other and realising they outnumbered their foes, drew their weapons. Dieter shook his head and smirked as he placed the lantern on the floor.

Tristran turned to the man that had led them down here, "Still going to deny that you know what is happening here?" One hand had reached for the great sword on his back as the other was channelling a spell. The arcane words poured from his lips and hung there for a moment, like quickly melting frost relived by a summer's day, which was taking longer than it ought to because of the plate that covered him. Armour interferes with the winds of magic that surrounded a spell caster, making it more difficult to focus on weaving the winds and performing the required incantation physically.

Within a few moments of pause the thieves, who thought nothing was happening, decided to rush the group. As they made their way forward, one of their number suddenly stopped, as if he was pulled back by invisible chains.

Dieter raised an eyebrow, "That sword just for show then priest?" he had plunged his scalpel into the shoulder of one of the other men rendering his arm temporarily unusable, as he dropped his sword. Ulger bit the ankle of another man making him fall to the ground where a more delicate target on the man's body had presented itself.

Rissandrea of course had very little means to fight the thieves off with other than her quarterstaff, as her pistol 'Redemption' was only to be used on those that were truly corrupt to their very soul. She parried the man that had swung his club at her and smacked him around the back of the head with her quarterstaff. Fortunately this was all that was needed to knock the man out.

The last of the five thieves tried to make a run for it but was stopped as the blade of Tristran's sword was at his throat "You can't run from justice" he started, "Verena may be blind but we priests are her eyes." His voice made it seem like there was nowhere to run or hide.

"L-listen I'll tell you everything." The fear in the thief's voice was noticeable as he began to back up, only to walk into Dieter.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 41

That was a good workout to say the least and we found out that these thieves were digging a tunnel into the temple of Myrmidia, a foolish idea to try and rob a temple. Maestro will not be pleased to hear we need to get involved in more religious matters, neither am I however.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 41

About time those three got back. Apparently this house is a base for the thieves. I knew this would be more trouble than it was worth - getting involved in religious matters again. Now it seems we need to find the guild headquarters. I think the man outside would be able to lead us there. Dieter seems more agitated however and he seems to be regularly eating some sort of biscuit from what I can tell.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 41

With a little bit of trickery, Dieter was able to capture the thief hiding in the alleyway outside and also gain information for us to find and enter the thieves' guild. I hope this goes well, for fighting an entire guild of thieves and possible assassins perhaps could spell even more trouble for us in the long term. I pray to Shallya that she shows compassion and mercy upon our small group.

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 41

Bah thieves, cowards that live in shadows no better than men of chaos. Now they try steal from Temple, they asking for divine wrath! We are to track down their guild. I not know what priest plans to do to them but I expect it be good fun.

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 41

Damn these robes. I don't know why I even have them on, it makes it harder to move about and actually hide effectively since they stand out so easily. Perhaps I can take control of this guild we're tracking down. It would be a good start to my plans in the future. In any case we found the building without much trouble, it was decided that I was to climb up to the top and sneak my way in. An easy task but Maestro decided he should try flying up to join me, a feat he kept failing at miserably. I fail to see why he is a wizard sometimes.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 41

Just when I think I'm getting the hang of this spell casting lark a new hurdle gets in my way. I feel like the winds of magic are constantly shifting around me, as if trying to avoid me at times. Was it something I said?

It is annoying to say the least, but I don't have to worry about Tobias writing it in his book during the night which is probably for the better, as I believe he has only written down my failures rather than successes. Saying that, even night time Tobias is as verbally displeased with me. You would have thought I would stand a chance with the alter ego at least!

Extract from the dairy of Dieter:

Day 41

I just knew this would happen. The guild master is another of those blasted moot dwellers. It seems everywhere I look I find a midget of some sort or another. However, I had to use some form of diplomacy here.

I look more the part than the rest of the group at least, which was rather unfortunate for the priest of justice, as I had to work with him in a joint initiation into the guild…

Maestro caused a disturbance, which gave me time to tell him my plan, although Tristran was reluctant to agree at first, it was the only way I could get him in alive with us. What a messy infiltration this is.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 41

Dieter can be rather the diplomat. Yes he has a silver tongue when it suits him. But my fears for Tristran were correct, his contact with Verena caused a problem with our 'joining', and I use the term as loosely as possible - of the thieves guild. Dieter was forced to temporally damage one of his arms. I saw what he did. Anyone without medical knowledge would not be able to tell that the wound was just for show and no damage would be permanent.

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 42

It seems now that the group have proven themselves. They are to assist with the current job that will take place at the end of the week, I've kept myself hidden and it is easy to hide without my robes. I can't find them anyway so it does not matter. I just hope Dieter knows what he's doing, as he's been picked for a special job. I did not like the tone of the leader's voice when he called Dieter to his office this morning. I hope I will get a chance to ask him about it later.


	18. Chapter 18

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Lory Cozens

Second Treatment, plot co-ordinating, editing by Robert James Freemantle

Chapter 18

Digging Up the Truth

Extract form the diary of Maestro:

Day 42

What a right bloody mess this is. Not only am I involved with yet another priest but now I have to break into a temple, as if breaking into the grand hall of Ulrich's temple wasn't bad enough. If we have to deal with another manifestation of chaos at the end of this I will actually believe that the church is just another one of the ways they lure you onto the path of evil. I have my suspicions anyway!

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 42

It seems as if I have made a very good impression upon the guild master, the hairy footed scoundrel that he is. He seems to think that I have potential. Hah not that I need him to tell me that. In fact he told me of the secondary mission while we are to infiltrate the temple. While the other's steal several artefacts from the vaults, I'm to assassinate the temple's high priest, to which I do not see the point as I have no reason to kill this person - well maybe none other than he is a religious zealot. I dislike them almost as much as halflings and all we seem to do as a group is kill anyway. So much blood on my hands, like always. So many bodies like always. Death.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 43

I feel like the thieves eyes are always watching us - it's unnerving to say the least.

This next week can not go fast enough for me. Tordrad also seems uneasy here. Perhaps he is expecting a dagger in his back at any moment. I have noticed it before, the way he holds himself trying to find places where they might take him by surprise. It's almost as if he's been in the position of a bodyguard for a very long time. I wonder whose employ he was under before he came to the Empire. However, the language barrier makes it hard to ask about such things.

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 44

Cowards who strike from shadows, cannot stand them. I have urge to do something, can't stand around doing nothing for whole week. Wizard seems distressed, say something about vision, perhaps he need new spectacles. Too many spectacles as is. Has me carry them in sack for him. Spectacles for everything. Idiot enough to think they all work. Perhaps idiot enough to be right!

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 44

I decided to perform the omen spell in hopes of finding out some information about our current situation. There's always a chance of this spell backfiring and showing me false information. I have a feeling that this is one of those times, as my vision showed me on my back having my face licked by a dog! I could not tell if it was Ulger as its bloody great big tongue was in the way. Great big lickity spittly thing. The next thing I saw however still has me a little bit worried. It was a vision of Tordrad and he was in chaos armour! The colour and symbols upon it signified Khorne. If it holds true, it is possible that we may have just dressed our Kislevite companion in that armour in an attempt to infiltrate a cult, but I might just have to keep an eye on him to be safe. Even if it's not true, it could still hide some underlying other matter. You never fully know with the winds of magic, the blue wind of azyr especially!

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 45

I've found a map of the entire compound which I handed to Dieter this morning. Hopefully he'll make good use of it, as I cannot read the words upon it. It is possible that this is the thieves' tongue I have heard about. Tordrad uses something similar called battle tongue, a mix of common used words and hand signs, when written however there are some odd symbols interwoven with the words that make it even harder to understand. What's even more odd is that it was in my own handwriting…But surely that couldn't be the case.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 45

This map is of little use as I cannot read it, however it does give a good idea of the layout of this place. I doubt we can just walk out of here unnoticed, too many people here are watching us, looking for the moment to strike. I feel even more uneasy with so many eyes watching me. I wouldn't be surprised if Ranald is in on this with Morr now.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 46

We've been cooped up here for five days now.

I've had no chance to study the stars and hopefully divine a way out if this bloody mess. Although Dieter tells me that based on what he saw of the tunnel in that house before, it is quite possible that either tonight or tomorrow night they might execute their plan - about time too. There's only a certain amount of times I can read the same book, even if it's the one I'm writing!

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 46

Dieter had instructed me to thin out the numbers in this guild every night. I could see the need for this. Easier said than done as people may notice a missing member of their organization quite easily and taking out several people a day will definitely be noticed.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 47

Tomorrow night is when we are to make our way to the dig site, although we already know where it is. We had agreed not to mention this as it could get us in serious trouble and possibly having to fight our way out of here.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 48

Tonight's the night. The four of us are heading out and we are being 'accompanied' by four other guild members. I know we're not completely trusted by the guild master and these fellows will probably be watching our every move from here on out and I wouldn't put it past them to put a dagger in our backs and leave us for the watch to deal with.

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 48

I was able to get the keys to both Tristran's cell and the armoury. Perhaps I can 'borrow' some of their equipment. I think the last key on this bunch leads to a possible treasury, after the Verenian warrior priest completes his arrests here I will relive them of their excess money. They'll never notice it gone, I'm sure.

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 48

We broke into temple from below. Not the best idea wizard has had but I recognise look in his eyes. He has plan. This makes me worried as wizard's plans blow up like poorly cared for Streltsi handgun and those who do that, are not considered worthy of their weapons. Hopefully he won't need to use plan.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 48

We've split up into two groups: Myself, Rissandrea, Tordrad and three of our guides are going to steal some items from the reliquary, whilst Dieter and the last remaining guide are going off to perform some other task.

As we entered the grand hall I decided it was time to throw my plan into action!

Maestro stopped walking and leaned on his staff for support, he began to shake, initiating his fake dramatic purpose.

"There is something else here, something evil that wants us gone from this place!" warbled the wizard, fear in his voice as he tried not to appear to fall further to the floor by gripping his staff even tighter. The three thieves with them looked at one another and wondered what he was talking about as Maestro suddenly shot back up, a hand held out in front of him, he was chanting words to a spell and his eyes were glowing with aethyric energy. To the thieves who knew little of magic, they thought he was being possessed by something. Tordrad knew otherwise as he bent down slightly and swept Rissandrea up and onto his shoulder, dashing as quickly as he could to get them out of whatever crazy spell Maestro was about to cast. If one were to have looked directly at Rissandrea's face at that moment in time they would have seen her blush from the sudden close contact and the way she was being carried.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 48

Tordrad surprised me with his sudden actions today, although I can not blame him for what he did, as he was just trying to get me out of harm's way. I should not have reacted as I did however. It just goes to prove that I need to focus more on my training.

Maestro threw several brass coins out onto the floor and raised his staff into the air, a powerful gust of wind swirled around him like a hurricane and spread outwards away from the wizard, picking up the coins and loose bits of rock from the flagstones which in turn crashed into the glass of the stained glass windows shattering them and sucking the broken shards into the vortex, making it even deadlier as all these combined made contact with the thieves dealing various lacerating wounds to them, almost killing them outright - if it wasn't for Rissandrea moving in to heal them after Maestro's spell had ended.

Meanwhile Dieter was having his own ideas of how to deal with the man following him, he was sure he could defeat him if he was careful enough with his actions. He had a plan and it wasn't his best considering how much trouble he was in with the Gods as it stood, but hopefully Myrmidia was a little more willing to listen. Silently he spoke and as he did so his vision seemed to shimmer as if the area he was in was producing a huge degree of heat. Heat and magic

A woman with shoulder length raven hair and copper tanned skin appeared before Dieter. She was carrying a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. She was currently standing with her back to him as he gasped, giving himself away to her. She turned around and her eyes were fully focused on the would be doctor.

Her gaze made him feel uneasy as her voice echoed through his head, "You, who have angered Morr, call for my aid in my own temple, Ulrich has spoken well of you and I have yet to make my own mind up about your actions. This time I shall give you the benefit of the doubt mortal and hope that you will not dishonour my judgment."

She raised the arm that she held her shield in, from which the light from all the candles reflected off it and was directed towards the thief. Though she was a mere apparition, and an invisible one at that to the thief, the light was real enough to blind his vision, which gave Dieter a chance to knock the man unconscious with a well aimed blow to the back of the head.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 48

Myrmidia is rather an intriguing deity and somewhat foolish at times I believe, but her help has given us a chance to end this little crime ring without much effort on our part. Although I hear Maestro went too far with his little act as it got the watch involved. Our warrant papers were still effective enough to get us out of trouble though. Once the Goddess had disappeared, a tome was all that was left on the ground where she had been standing. I will have to study this book in more detail when I get the chance.

Maestro's diary:

Day 48

We decided to make our way back to the warehouse that held the secret entrance to thieves' guild, inside we found Tobias counting several piles of coins. At first glance I would have estimated around two thousand coins, a small pile of copper pieces and silver and a larger pile of gold coins which made up the majority of the coins, Dieter is insistent that it shall be split between us.

Rissandrea's diary:

Day 48

I found Tristran in another room that contained several barrels. He had removed the lid from one of them to reveal a green substance that I instantly recognised as powdered warpstone. We informed the others and Dieter found a shipping form that had an address leading to tavern in the Grafsmund Nordgarten. I fear what we may find there. Oh dear.


	19. Chapter 19

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Lory Cozens

Second Treatment, plot co-coordinating, editing by Robert James Freemantle

Chapter 19

Blackrot

The party had made their way to what seemed to be the final destination in this entire investigation – that they had been roped into - and hopefully an end to their business in Middenheim.

Maestro for one just wanted to end this quickly and without anymore fuss, but he knew that this wouldn't be the case and was prepared to face whatever the fates would throw at him.

Dieter began to get a bad feeling, which when coupled with the slight burning sensation in his chest from each of the marks that were there, he felt even more on edge. He unconsciously rubbed each of the marks whilst he tried to formulate a plan in his mind.

He didn't have to much worry for Tristran's safety as much as he did the others of course...

Sunrise was still a couple of hours away and Tobias was skulking behind the group in the shadows while Tordrad and Tristran took point as the party finally arrived outside the tavern.

From the look of the place, it had long since been abandoned and left to fall into disrepair.

Rissandrea's skin began to crawl as if trying to escape from whatever lied within - she remembered feeling like this once before back in Altdorf, when the group were with her in the sewer system… This gave her pause for thought and gave rise to a question in her mind 'What terrible aspect of chaos lays within?'

"Something feels odd here" Maestro announced as if he was expecting everyone present to hang on his words as he spoke. Of course no one looked his way, much to his annoyance. With a momentary frown he continued on anyway, "I can definitely sense a disruption in the aethyr, almost as if something is pulling it here. It is small now, but there is definitely a swell of _non-transient_ _magical energy_. Now don't get me wrong, there are swells of magic everywhere. Magic itself is indeed quite a swollen thing. It's just that it is quite swollen in particular in this general vicinity."

Dieter just sighed; Maestro just didn't know when to shut up. The trainee doctor's sixth sense was telling him not to enter and as much as he would have liked to listen to it, he knew that he had come too far to just drop out now.

Tobias unconsciously scratched the back of his head as he often had habit of doing. He hadn't been paying attention to a single word that came out of the wizard's mouth as he had been more focused on the map of the city sewer system he had 'acquired' in the thieves' den.

Rissandrea ignored the words of the party about her, praying to Shallya for strength and protection. Tordrad didn't understand what was being said but got the general idea of what was happening. He could see everyone's posture had shifted, as if they were expecting a pretty dangerous confrontation, well almost everyone. Maestro still had his shoulders slumped and looked disheartened at the fact they were all ignoring him.

Dieter wouldn't say it out loud but he could also sense something was wrong with this place. As he touched the handle for the door he felt a wave of oppressive malignance that would have made a weaker minded man break down, but the worst thing he felt was his hand starting to go numb - _So much power here, this does not bode well for the group. After that incident with the daemon I wonder how well we might fare with whatever is in here. _He slowly opened the door as he reached for his machete.

Once the door was fully open, the group peered inside. The common room was completely empty and several of the tables and chairs were rotten and ridden with termites. This particular stench of death and decay was extremely potent and familiar to them - and they didn't need Maestro's witchsight to tell them that the Plague Lord was at work here, which of course he did anyway.

As the party made their way to the cellar Rissandrea held her arms against herself, eyes closed in concentration, as she mentally fought off the feeling of corruption seeping into her very being. Just like last time, being in the vicinity of such pure evil hurt her body. This only served to mentally embolden her further onto her path of faith.

The cellar was just as bad as the common room in appearance and the even the metal hinges on the door at the opposite end to where they entered was rusted away and looked like it would fall over at the slightest touch.

There were sounds coming from the other side of the door: excited whispers, deep animalistic growls and various other ominous noises that set Maestro's hair on end.

Tordrad furrowed his eyebrows as he moved forward and reached to push the door open, this was a signal to the rest of the party to ready their weapons.

Tordrad didn't just open the door - he kicked it down sending it sailing through the air and crashing into one of the room's occupants. He drew his scimitar and stepped into the dusty open area beyond pointing the weapon towards the one person in the room that he instantly recognised. He remembered the stench of corruption that flowed through this place.

The decayed form of Blackrot stood atop a dais, his thick leathery skin almost seeming to shine in the dim torchlight.

Next to him was an equally _blessed_ chaos sorcerer and surrounding them were no less than fifty chaotic beasts, ranging from skaven to various sized beastmen.

The room looked like it was recently hewn by pickaxes, which was further proven by the various dwarf corpses littered around the room, they had dug their way in previously to try and influence the final battle of Middenheim, or perhaps to take advantage of the city's weakened state and destroy it slowly through the corruption of the plague lord.

The beastmen present were jaded under the influence of 'Grandfather Nurgle', physically showing signs of their benefactor's 'gifts'.

The skaven present were not particularly within the influence of Nurgle; they were not those of Clan Pestilens for example. They instead had helped Blackrot make his way into the city from the Skaven undercity below after his forced visitation upon their home. They were nothing but helpful to simply get rid of him from their lair and protect themselves from reprisals if they'd refused.

This race and such places as these were something that humans denied even existed. In some areas such as Nuln in fact you could be in trouble with the law for even suggesting that the rat people might be real.

Tordrad wore a scowl on his face, the chaos champion had survived the last encounter and was now here in Middenheim.

The rest of the party had entered the room as well.

Rissandrea was gripping her staff tighter than she would have liked but she knew that now was no time to run. If she did then all her training would have been for nothing.

Dieter was scowling far more than Tordrad though. This monstrosity before him seemed to think it was better than him and he couldn't have that!

As for Maestro, his train of thought was leading him to worry about a decidedly off-putting runny nose and how that might affect this showdown.

Tobias was wondering how much he could get on the black market for the poison that ran through the veins of a chaos champion and Ulger was letting out a low growl as he stood next to his master ready to spring upon an opponent at a moment's notice.

Tristran looked around at the small group, the expressions on their stunned faces took him by surprise. This chaos champion brought out a strange sense of unity that even the most experienced of warriors on the battlefield would not have known before, a strange sensation binding all living things together: Death, or rather disease and plague that would bring about death, for was death not the ultimate unifier? Were not all men equal in its grasp?

Then Tristran turned his gaze upon the foes, noting each with an intense study. Each of the skaven that stood opposing them were dressed in what at one point could have been considered robes, but in several places each one had a different pattern of this scheme which was created from pus and blood filled extrusions on the body that had burst multiple times and had stained them far worse than any dye attempts could produce . They all seemed to possess some sort of dark gift of their god - the Horned Rat. These unfortunates had spent too long in the plague champion's company.

To Tristran however they just looked like chaos mutations as they seemed to match up to several of the mutants that made up yet more of the numbers: diseased and plague-ridden men and women shambling along like some cruel parody of zombies but with the misfortune of still being alive feeling every moment of their situation.

The beastmen were just as disgusting to look at as the rest of the creatures present, parts of their skin were so decayed that you could see right through to the bones underneath and clouds of flies flew around them like they too were walking corpses.

The seconds passed with both sides just staring at each other, waiting for some sort of unseen signal to attack. With a deep and put out hiss that sounded like a punctured lung, Blackrot stepped down from the dais, slowly and purposely moving through the crowd of chaos monstrosities to face the adventurers. As he reached the forefront he looked over each of them in turn, causing them to ready themselves for some kind of attack, but instead the champion spoke in a mocking raspy voice that he seemed to emit from his chest cavity. It was as if noxious spores had been breeding in his lungs and were escaping into the air around him, "So it seems the trap has caught more than our intended prey, but it seems that this is a good thing, as a chance to take revenge on those that interfered with our plans before. I could not ask for a better outcome that this. My master wishes you dead, boy." His hand was outstretched towards Tristran as if he was directing his own plague bearing spores towards him.

Tristran was about to reply but had not time to even start a sentence as Blackrot turned away from them and the horde rushed towards the group intent on tearing them apart.

Tordrad parried a deadly looking blade and barely avoided the large globule outpour of liquid that was spewed up by one of the mutants. It hacked and heaved as if trying to find more to shoot at him. Then he found himself forced into a blade lock with a beastman. Knowing that he couldn't afford to be bogged down for too long in one fight he kicked his leg out, pushing the creature away from him and before the mutant could spew a second wave at the Kislev born bodyguard, a bolt of lightning struck it in the chest.

Maestro's spell crackled with a satisfying after echo as he spoke to Tordrad, "Don't mention it my man, you'd do the same for me…well you wouldn't, because you'd be a wizard then but you know what I mean!"

Rissandrea and Tobias were taken it in turns to fire shots form their respective ranged weapons, the halfling with his crossbow and the Priestess bearing the smiting fury that was 'Redemption' her pistol, a weapon she reserved for foes that were beyond saving, so evil that their death was a salvation of sorts – and in this way the Vhor sub-sect of Shallyan faith was unique. As one reloaded their weapon the other took down what they could, but they too would soon become overwhelmed and as hard as Tordrad and Tristran fought, the sheer amount of numbers made it so that many got past them.

Rissandrea was forced to the ground by a skaven who raised a dagger above its head ready to kill her. Instead though, a crossbow bolt pierced its throat and sent the creature flying off her, its frame was smaller than that of a human and thusly prone to a more pronounced reaction to strong collisions.

The last shot Tobias had fired had been point blank range, had he been even a fraction of a second slower in reloading it, the priestess would have been dead there and then. There was no time for words however as a large group of beastmen had surrounded them.

Tobias had drawn his knife and was holding it with the blade pointed towards the ground, "Well then, which of you fools wants to die first?"

Dieter was crouched down gripping his walking stick as tightly as he could, hands shaking. Ulger was protecting its master as best he could but a great weapon wielding beastman made it past him and had a perfect cleaving strike lined up to split the would be physician in two!

Suddenly Dieter's eyes snapped open and a strange feeling washed over the entire room. The three most attuned to magical energies turned towards Mr De'ath who was stood in the epicentre of this strange phenomenon, each of them wondering what had just happened.

This confusion was increased as almost every single beastman in the room was fighting each other to be first to escape from the presence of the group, or rather the swirling mass of seemingly magical energy imperceptible to the human eye that radiated near Dieter.

On the beastmen fled, through the very tunnel they had used to enter the city in the first place. The skaven below would no doubt be happy at this visitation. No doubt the two difference child races of chaos would soon be vilified with each other in combat, perhaps in a matter of minutes.

Blackrot signalled to the sorcerer who moved forward into the fray and began chanting the words of a summoning spell.

Maestro now had Tordrad covering him and he performed his own magical response. The journeyman wizard noticed with his witchsight that the other caster's spell actually reached out through the aethyr and swirled as if slowly forming a large shape.

The sorcerer was cut off mid chant and reached for his throat wondering why he was unable to speak, "Sorry but we can't have you doing that" Maestro called to him in a cheery manner. He also quietly noticed that the spell he had just cast had come about too easily and he was already experienced and learned in the craft to understand that he was standing in an aethyrically amplified area – the winds of magic were indeed stronger than usual here – _perhaps_, he thought, _I can take advantage of this myself_.

Maestro looked upon the swarming enemies around them. Worse still there were amassed forces present still waiting to get into combat even though the beastmen had already fled. Maestro noticed that the strange pulsing radiation that had scared them away continued on in that place, even though Dieter had now moved far away towards the back of the group again. Whatever the odd aura like manifestation was, it had helped them but it wasn't working on anything else in the room. With that he raised his staff into the air and concentrated on chanting a particularly dangerous verse line from the language of magic, the language of the Elves. After a while his arm began to shake and his muscles felt like they were on fire. Beads of sweat rolled down the wizard's face and his skin had paled incredibly. The amount of raw uncultivated energy he was channelling was far more than he was used to. He was nowhere near the level of master yet and here now he was trying to call upon a spell that he had learnt on the promise to Tobias of not using until he was a fully fledged wizard magister "or perhaps even wizard lord" he remembered the halfling scholar's words.

He was rapidly regretting his decision to cast such a powerful spell in so unprotected and raw a state but knew that losing focus now would probably mean his death. No he didn't like the thought of that outcome on bit, so he squeezed his eyes tightly closed to help deal with the pain. Even so, the magical flux that reverberated through his being lit him up internally as well, making his eyes able to view the room in a magical white and blue hazy mode of vision.

Just as Maestro seemed to reach his limit, seeming as if he might collapse there and then a rage-filled blustering black cloud formed out of nowhere and swelled in size until it looked as if it was going to burst. With one shaking hand outstretched, the wizard attempted to control it as best as he could - then slammed his staff onto the floor! This forced a pulse of energy to travel along the line and made his own party's hair blow from the momentary gust in passing before it hit the powerful manifestation of natural elements. Then, bolts of lightning shot forth from the cloud, striking all that stood beneath it.

Some of the weaker foes were killed outright, others were left with huge burn marks on their skin or fur. The sorcerer was clutching his right arm which had been struck - it had turned pitch black in colour and the entire piece of cloth that was covering his limb had been destroyed by the blast.

The wizard fell to his knees panting. He was lucky to have survived casting the spell as he had felt as if the very aethyr itself fuelled by nature's protests was about to pull him apart for his arrogance - but the fact was, he had done it. That had to count for something he hoped, pulling himself up from the floor and dusting himself down.

What had been an overwhelming force had been whittled down in a few minutes to survivable odds, granted Maestro had almost killed himself doing so, but of course this meant the surviving mutants and skaven would by now be backed up by the champion of Nurgle himself.

The numbers around him now vastly diminished, Blackrot strode forwards and drew his blade…Unlike most warriors, his sword had no scabbard…Instead it lay buried up to the hilt inside his body, simply pushed in like a stab wound through a pustulent ringed sore that marked the permanent point of entry. Even his chaos armour, a materialization of daemonic interference had evolved around the blade as an undeviating purposeful fissure.

With the blade drawn, his vile black blood dripping from its edges as he pointed it challengingly towards Tristran, who had just finished off the last skaven that had attacked him - and his eyes met the massive bulky form of his adversary. His entire presence then focused upon Blackrot. In acknowledgement to the challenge Tristran rushed towards him swinging his great sword around in an arc. This first strike collided with Blackrot's shield almost completely stopping the blade from moving. It felt as if some teeming but unseen mass along its surface was trying to stick the weapon to it. Using only part of his strength to push the blade back, Blackrot threw his shield out to the side, causing the warrior priest to stumble backwards slightly. Using the opening, the chaos champion lashed out with his own sword aiming to take the verenian warrior priest's head clean off his shoulders. Tristran barely managed to dodge it, although he took a shallow cut to the cheek which felt as if it burned like acid or some other corrosive substance. Blackrot's blood was a natural living poison and the weapon was covered in it.

The remaining mutants weren't worth the trouble compared to the danger that some of these creatures presented, this was evident as Dieter sent one flying backwards with just his staff. This did surprise him however as he hadn't put much strength behind the attack. It was possible that the tormented creature had some sort of mutation that decreased its weight - the man did look rather gaunt, almost ghoul-like. This just proved that not all mutations were beneficial to the occupier.

Tordrad gutted one of the remaining skaven. They had faced several of the beasts during their stay within Middenheim. They had learned that the ratmen would attack from the shadows and in large numbers using it to their advantage, so for the group being able to at last fight them on more even odds made the skaven become increasingly cowardly as the fight drew on.

Meanwhile Tobias and Rissandrea were now left in the clear. The two of them had very little left to offer the group in terms of help and as such the remaining creatures were being dealt with by Dieter, Tordrad and Ulger.

The Shallyan priestess had been worried about the overall outcome, but even the most severe wounds that they had received were nothing that both Dieter and herself couldn't handle given enough time. Tobias was bored, the beastmen had run before he had a chance to deal with them. Whatever had happened over near Dieter had caused the whole lot of them to run. He looked around hungry for battle and he could see the remaining mutants and skaven were being held off and pushed back into the entry tunnel. The halfling did however notice a small amount of movement out of the corner of his eye as the Nurgle sorcerer raised his only working arm in one last gesture of spite.

Maestro looked over in the direction of the sorcerer and he didn't need to try and force himself to see the aethyric energy flowing around the man of chaos. The spell was going out of control and rather fast, he himself was far enough away but the other two were too close to the epicentre of whatever was going to happen and he found himself calling out without thinking, "Tobias! Rissandrea! Move out the way quickly. That spell has too much power flowing through it and I don't know what the backlash could do!"

Heeding his words, the two began to move as quickly as they could before the spell could be finished, however before they could get away an explosion rang out followed by a magical shockwave that knocked them off their feet. Maestro was close enough to be pushed back a little by the blast. Whatever the spell was to be they wouldn't know, for the burn on his arm began to turn into some sort of glowing rock like substance and it began to extend up his arm until it covered his entire body. The man, if you could even call him that, was turned into a statue, completely black in colour and his face contorted into a mask of pain and horror. The large and deadly looking shape of energy that comprised of the other spell the sorcerer had been casting dissipated away at this, just as vile daemonic features formed enough to see a sharp-toothed glower had anyone been interested to have looked at that moment in time.

Every single attack that Tristran attempted was blocked by either the shield or sword of Blackrot who seemed to know just when and where to block and counter, as if some terrible all knowing presence whispered information into his ear.

Both seemed evenly matched. When the Warrior priest saw an opening in his opponent's guard, he swung his sword at Blackrot once more - however this time the chaos imbued creature that once was a man didn't even think to dodge the blow as the blade sunk into the armour.

The cut went no deeper as Blackrot's thick leathery skin and overhanging fat absorbed the blow, with the suggestion that he did not even require that scrap parts of armour that still clung to his body here and there.

Blackrot hissed in satisfaction and taunted his opponent, "If that is all you can do priest, then perhaps my master's fear of you being able to interfere with his plans is unfounded."

Blackrot dropped his shield and used his now free hand to pull on the great sword that was lodged into him, sending it deeper into his own body with some effort.

Caught off guard, Tristran fell forwards and was impaled upon Blackrot's now uprising sword, the blade's corrosive effect tearing through the warrior priest's armour like it wasn't even there and piercing his body with little effort as it went all the way through and out his back.

Blackrot continued, "It seems you are unfamiliar with fighting _true_ chaos boy. You weren't even worthy of my time." As he said this, Tristran was muttering something. Blackrot could not hear what but the words were arcane in nature.

Tristran then weakly raised his arm and quickly slammed his hand into Blackrot's face. A holy passage bringing the truth of his foe's purpose recited. As he did so, images flashed through his mind, the form of Blackrot and three other figures he did not recognise were very prominent as they stood behind a fifth figure in pitch-black armour with metallic wings protruding from his back, standing in front of a snowy and frozen landscape. Then a sixth figure came into view, this one was a women and she seemed to bare no mutations whatsoever until the image focused upon her face.

Her eyes glowed with an aethyric power that was uncommon among the wizards of the empire and no sound came at all when she spoke, but the words were clear even in the silence that followed, "The fall shall come from that which surrounds you on all sides." There was something Kislevian in her features and in the surroundings of the vision.

As Tristran saw all of this his mind was overwhelmed by the sheer implications at stake. He knew the truth now!

Blackrot let out a roar of agony as a divine fire burned within his body, he let go of his sword and placed both hands on the side of his head as a brilliant white light began to emit from his skin.

Tristran fell to his knees with the sword still embedded in him. Rissandrea had quickly rushed over to him as he pulled the blade out wincing as he did so.

The young priestess acted as fast as she could to remove his breastplate, although she had little knowledge of how this armour went on, let alone how to get it off.

Tristran grabbed hold of her wrist and shook his head, "Leave it unless you wish to contract whatever vile poison was on that blade" he told her in a painful strained voice. Rissandrea tried to argue, "But I must do something, as a member of the Shallyan priesthood I can't leave any injured unattended."

Tobias's voice cried out, "Now is not the time for you to start citing you're scriptures fool girl, now get down!"

He was suddenly dashing towards her, dagger ready to strike. She moved to the side as fast as she could which was almost not fast enough as the Halfling dove past her and leapt into the air. That was when she saw why Tobias had done what he did.

Blackrot was towering behind her as Tobias's dagger struck true, tearing into the monster of a man.

The momentum of his run up had given him an edge against the champion's defensive mutations. Black blood erupted from the wound spaying the poisonous liquid into the halfling's face. This would have normally been extremely dangerous and most possibly life threatening to any who had been hit with such a large amount of the foul substance, but luckily the mask the thief wore upon the lower half of his face saved him from having the blood enter his mouth.

Not risking anything, Tobias quickly threw the mask aside which was drenched in poison, as he readied his dagger once more. Tordrad appeared next to him, weighing his blood soaked great axe in his hands once more. This was the weapon he was most comfortable with and considering how it felt somewhat lighter in his grip now, even with the exhaustion that he was feeling from the fight, he wondered how much he had grown over the weeks.

Blackrot was still bleeding from the wound that Tobias had inflicted upon him and although it was slowly regenerating, it would still put him at a severe disadvantage in a prolonged fight.

His eyes quickly darted around as he saw a skaven trying to crawl away, its legs were burnt beyond use but that didn't matter, only serving to elevate its own internal efforts.

Blackrot reached down and picked the creature up by the fur on its back and as he did so, his mouth and jaw stretched open like some form of unnatural snake.

The group had a look of disgust on their faces as the man swallowed the pestilent beast whole and almost instantly afterwards the cut on his neck began to heal at an even faster rate, as within seconds there was only a scar left.

The sight of the creature going down Blackrot's throat was almost enough to make several members of the party vomit at the sight and only Dieter and Tordrad could keep a semi-serious look upon their faces.

With a last look behind him, Tordrad saw that Dieter had made his way over to the fallen warrior priest and was attempting to aid Rissandrea in keeping the young man alive. He then faced forwards once more and launched himself into battle with a Kislevite warcry.

Caught by surprise, Blackrot raised his sword to block but Tordrad's strike was able to push him back.

_His strength _thought Rissandrea_… it is on par with Bonesaw's back when we last faced them. _

The Champion was taken aback being almost knocked off his feet by the sheer power behind the attack. He had expected a growth in power but had also thought the Kislevite to have become lazy due to his time in the Empire.

Tordrad swung again, his blow sending sparks from contact with the shield almost knocking it from Blackrot's hands. Tordrad had fought Chaos warriors before and even though his opponent now was a Champion, he knew that he could come through this alive. He knew that he had to…he had to complete his bodyguard duty to the stupid wizard in his care.

Tobias had moved to one side as Tordrad made his assault, using the distraction of the Kislevite's attacks to sneak around behind the chaos warrior. If there was a weak point in that armour or the man's body itself he had to find it before Blackrot could regain his footing under Tordrad's furious attacks.

His eyes scanned the armour and stance for any sort of opening as his gaze fell upon a large growth that was strangely not covered even in part by the chaos armour. It was right in the middle of his back.

Tobias gripped his dagger tightly and lunged forwards, instinctively throwing his body to one side just in case some form of vile substance erupted from the impact as he had seen and narrowly avoided before.

The timing could not have been better, for as soon as Blackrot had slammed his shield into Tordrad almost sending the Kossar onto the floor with the sheer force, from which he would have then used the opening to do to the Kislevite what he had done to Tristran thus finishing off another of the close combatants.

Tobias's dagger rapidly struck his target and the champion cried out in surprised agony as he was left prone for a few seconds – affording the time for Tordrad to take advantage.

The Kislevite's axe crashed into Blackrot's chest, cleaving through the armour and even through that seemingly impervious body, spraying black blood into the air.

Falling to his knees, the Champion's eyes were wide in shock, not once but twice he had been wounded by members of this group. He had not felt pain like this since he had gained his mutations all those years ago and he was oblivious to the fact that Tordrad stood above him his axe raised.

The blade fell and moments later the sound of flesh on stone was heard throughout the room.

Tordrad's weapon was dripping with blood and he was breathing heavily from being winded by the shield just seconds before. One hand was on his chest, but knew the pain would go soon - he could do with a drink right about now though.

Tristran smiled. These five people were far more skilled than their appearances led one to believe. He could feel the poison in his system spreading even faster no matter what Rissandrea and Dieter attempted to do otherwise - for Blackrot's power had been derived too closely to the pure source of Nurgle for mere mortals to comprehend.

The sword that the champion wielded began to hiss and smoke grabbing the group's attention. The blade lost all form, transforming into a variety of insects and spiders. Then just as suddenly, the corpse of Blackrot began to contort here and there into strange shapes, beginning to emit odd sounds as well until the body burst, tearing through both his skin and armour as if it wasn't there. As it did so, a swarm of Nurglings emerged! They clawed their way out of the body and looked upon the group with pitifully dull and tortured eyes, intent on making them share in their torment.

Tordrad pulled back as they tried to move towards him, his eyes fell upon the wizard expectantly.

Maestro saw this and commented, "I…I am spent, any more magical output from me could kill us all, I can't concentrate a channel now and thusly cannot guarantee your safety." His face looked drained as well, his body hunched over in fatigue. Tordrad had never seen him like this before.

At these words, the others in the group began to mutter, hope becoming lost from their hearts as the nurgling swarm amassed to such a great size that it turned the floor into completely covering green mucky ooze where they trod, they were without number, pouring from the corpse like water from a tap.

Dieter propped himself up on his stave, preparing to fight with the last of his own power too.

Tobias readied his dagger once more knowing that this was probably the end.

Ulger whined feebly where before he growled.

The nurglings at last reached the group. Everyone swung their weapons in frontal swiping arcs in an attempt at simply keeping them creatures back. This was an effective attack in itself as several of the daemons were killed by the effort, but still they were replaced by more and more of them.

As each moment went by, the group fought bravely but were forced to step back until the wall behind them was close.

By now, everyone fighting in the group had been lacerated or stung in some way, at least several times and they were quickly tiring from the endless onslaught.

Rissandrea had curiously not been present on the front lines of these events. She had instead been kneeling down deep in concentrated prayer to Shallya for help. She focused all of her divine understanding into one moment of total clarity. Within those few seconds it seemed, even though surely impossible that the form of Shallya herself smiling with kindness flashed before her mind's eye for but a moment.

The Priestesses of Shallya were the ultimate opponent of the forces of Nurgle. They opposed the disease and malevolent schemes of the fly lord better than any other order within the entire Old World.

With that, a suddenly blinding flash erupted from Rissandrea's hands as a spell that would normally only affect one daemon at a time instead reached a critical mass of sorts and splayed out a blanket of enduring light across the entirety of the room! The powerful tide washed over every daemon present and across the group too. Where it was spread thinner than it would have been, its actual power would not have been enough to harm a large manifestation of chaos, however, it was more than enough to hurt these nurglings.

The daemons at once tore apart in the holy light as the body of Blackrot too was consumed by holy flames. The nurglings were destroyed, as was their entry point into this plane of reality.

The holy light had shone too upon the group but had been practically harmless to them. Dieter however was contracted over with some internal pain visible on his face. Rissandrea enquired worriedly, "Dieter, what is wrong?"

The trainee doctor replied with concentrated effort through pain, "I…am fine silly girl. This battle has simply taken it out of me. I am not as…able bodied as some of you…"

Tristran could feel himself losing consciousness but he needed to do one last thing before he fell into Morr's embrace. He reached up and placed a hand on Rissandrea's shoulder, "I must tell you Miss Vhor, Verena granted me a glimmer of the true intentions…" he coughed up blood as pain racked his entire body. Rissandrea made a move to silence him, to tell him to conserve his strength but he spoke again before she could, "Chaos still plots against us even now, the North men gather their strength in preparation for their next attempt to destroy us, but you must be the ones to warn the Empire of this new threat. Tell them…" Tristran's hand fell from her shoulder, the poison had finally took him to the gates of Morr and as the life drained from his eyes, Rissandrea lowered her head in silent prayer for his soul. A single tear rolled down each of her cheeks as once again she had failed to save yet another life.

The group slowly and mournfully made their way out of the room through the busted doorway. Which each fight they won and walked away from, some of them felt as if they lost a little more of themselves each time.

If anyone had been looking a little more closely, they would have seen that while Dieter was walking away amongst the rest of the group, his shadow had somehow stayed behind in the room, as if burnt into place where the emanation that had scared the beastmen away occurred earlier…


	20. Chapter 20

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Peter Davis-Parker (primary) & Robert James Freemantle Second Treatment, plot co-coordinating, editing by Robert James Freemantle

Chapter 20

Farewell Middenheim

Extract from the Diary of Maestro:

Day 49

We've been up all night and I've not had a chance to rest. Worse still, Rissandrea insists that we inform the Verenian temple of Tristran's fate. As far as I'm concerned I'm done with this whole religious malarkey. I told her she's free to go do what she pleases but to leave me out of it this time. I've seen the inside of too many temples in this city and I want nothing more to do with any of them. Bunch of utter poo-poo heads.

Extract form the diary of Dieter:

Day 49

Rissandrea wants to make sure that Tristran receives a proper burial. Well that's fair enough, but I would like to at least get some sleep while Morr's eye is not watching me. At least I was able to acquire this nice piece of obsidian, albeit having had to remove it from that petrified chaos sorcerer and as such he is missing an arm. I do not care what the rest of the group might think on this matter, but I do wonder why I have this faint reminiscence of carrying a blade in the shape…I wish to have obsidian shaped into what I just know is the correct form… I'm sure there is a specialist blacksmith in this city that could perform such a feat.

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 50

It is most strange, I thought my pack felt heavier yesterday but I put that down to fatigue at the time. However upon inspection of my backpack I found several items that Rissandrea instantly recognised as part of Tristran's equipment. I must say I have no clue as to how I managed to fit most of these into my pack nor do I have the recollection of taking them from him.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 50

I was shocked to find that Tobias had removed several of Tristran's belongings from his body upon death. I had wondered when the priests had asked us what had become of some of his equipment as it was not present at the time. I had assumed as we had left the site of such corruption that perhaps they had been looted from his body while our presence was elsewhere. I have been noticing that the celestial scholar has been acting oddly only at night - ever since the incident in Altdorf. I did not had a chance to examine him properly at the time but it seems that we might not be leaving for out next destination for a while yet, I will see if I can find anything that could be the cause of this concerning change in attitude. If he lets me.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 50

It seems that Professor Zweistein has been 'instructed' to find out information on this daemon that was imprisoned within the brass skull and of course since we were the most involved in this matter, the most academic members of the group have been asked to assist with the inquiry at the library. Surprisingly Maestro was more than eager to get involved with it. My guess is that he just wants to get away from holy Temples as much as possible.

Tobias looked at Maestro who had his nose buried in a book, trying to get some last good reading done before the sunlight was gone.

"Maestro I must declare that your obsession with daemons is a rather dangerous subject, most people in your position should not show such interests."

The unofficial journeyman wizard looked up from the book he was writing, "Well actually it's more of a fact that they might have an interest in me, there was a rather odd occurrence that took place during one of my lessons at the college."

Several years ago, Altdorf, the Celestial college:

Maestro was sat within yet another lecture. He wasn't paying total attention to everything the instructor was saying as he was focused on the paper in front of him which was covered in notes. Most of these notes were of rudimentary engineering schematics, although there were arcane marks as well.

Today's lecture was on the dangers of magic, or rather ways to avoid attracting the ire of Tzeentch. The primary way to do this was with a protective magic circle that allowed the caster to focus the winds of magic more stably.

The master wizard that was tutoring this particular class had a rather odd styled beard in that it was exceptionally long. Within the long strands of hair were entwined metal discs shaped as arcane symbols, some of which the students had never seen before. Maestro fancied that the tutor had a miniature symbol situated in his nose and that it caught the light when the man turned his head – that or perhaps it was a piece of snot. Either way, there was probably some magical answer for it all as far as Maestro knew. This was of course the major problem: Maestro didn't know very much at all.

The teacher continued his instructions, explaining that the very spot he stood upon was overly magically imbued – a vortex of pressure that swells into the physical realm from the other plane, the daemonic sub-reality attached to theirs. He explained that special magical safeguards are employed here to keep the opening as just a swell and not a fissure. Were it a fissure he explained, then any matter of daemonic manifestation might occur and that is why a magic circle is the only true way to protect one's self while casting up the eight winds of magic. This technique was particularly expressed to these students who were not yet even at senior apprentice level. The eyes of Tzeentch were particularly watchful for students who were gifted in magic but lacking in the patience and maturity to properly control it.

At that moment, a cracking sound caught everyone's attention. Even Maestro looked up. The teacher stared down at the floor with a puzzled expression and stated, "Alright then apprentices, what you are witnessing here is a conjoined physical to non corporeal emanation. This is likely caused from some…thing from the other side walking over the fault line that leads into our reality. If we did not have the magic circle in place right now, we would be subject to an anomalous emanation of purest evil. That is why…"

His words were suddenly cut off from a loud hissing sound that erupted up from the floor. The teacher looked down at his feet and saw pink smoke billowing up from the centre of the circle. He quickly incanted a spell, summoning the winds about him but the smoke interfered with that. It was quickly taking on a thickly reddish hue as the teacher noticed that it seemed to be clinging to the very magic around it. Every piece of energy the teacher summoned was negated. The smoke engulfed the winds of magic so that the master wizard could not channel. A green crackling spat and sparked up from the floor as flames erupted from the circle and a terrible howling sound wailed into the room.

"Students, evacuate the classroom at once, the circle has failed and we are in the midst of a daemonic outbreak. Sigmar knows what is coming!"

The pupils of the lessons didn't have to be told twice. Within moments they were all up in a mad scramble for the exit. Maestro was still wrapped up in his doodling of course, for he was used to great sounds of hustle and bustle during such lessons. Usually it was from students rudely running to the front of the room to get a better look at whatever spell had been cast. This time however, Maestro didn't hear the master wizard tutor shout at them all and tell them to return to their seats. This fact made him look up from his drawing and then he saw it - All hell breaking loose. The teacher was already gone. Endrel, Maestro's most despised foe, a fellow student in his class was last out of the room. Their mutual hate for each other had gone on since they had first met one another. Endrel was nice enough to inform the teacher that he was the last student in there and helpfully closed the door which was then magically locked from the outside. This left poor Maestro stranded inside the room.

Maestro was up on his feet, running towards the door, stepping carefully around the magic circle and site of the emanation as he screamed, "I'm still in here, let me out, I say, let me out won't you?"

Some of the other students outside looked to the master wizard in alarm but he smiled casually, "Ah yes, a daemon will do anything, try any trick to be let free, but do not worry apprentices, the walls and door themselves are tightly protected with sealing spells. It will go no further than that classroom, I assure you."

All of this was no good for Maestro however, who thumped and slammed on the door. He did a quick run up and kicked it with one foot, his pathetic skinny leg showing momentarily under his robes, indicating that he lacked the strength for any such brash action of physicality. _Damn that Endrel_ thought Maestro, as he looked back at the circle trying to determine how it even went wrong. He knew he should have paid more attention in lessons. Just then he spotted something that seemed to be out of place within the circle. Somewhere within one of the many arcane symbols, near the edge of a triplet of triangle like shapes was a shoe print that led to a scuff. This had damaged the drawing's integrity. As terrible realisation dawned on Maestro he looked down at his own feet. There at the front and soles of his shoe he saw…chalk. "Oh dear" he said aloud, "it must have been when I left the classroom earlier. I didn't realise they had a silly circle down. While the tutor explained I was probably relieving myself in the urinal. Well I'm not very relieved now!"

At that moment, an eruption of floor tiles and magical heat made Maestro jump into the air, a look of fear in his eyes like a deer in the headlights of a truck. He very almost relieved himself again, in his robes, as he scattered back the other way across the room, fearing to look upon the monstrous abomination present. He could now sense its evil intentions, its malign spirit and will to destroy, making his skin cringe at just the notion.

Maestro ran to the other end of the classroom and grabbed from the window sill a long stick with a hook at the end of it, which was normally used to open and close the high classroom windows. Not here though. Maestro looped the hook into the metal loop attached to the window and yanked it to make sure it was locked. He then left it dangling inside the window loop and began climbing up the pole, the angle of the hook thrust into it funnily enough kept it steady, at least for now, as Maestro was able to manoeuvre his way to the top up the pole.

His legs shivered as he could only guess at which vile monster lurked in the classroom below him. He heard it snorting and felt the eminence of its evil. This was indeed a daemon! He had been trained to recognise the spiritual signatures of them at the very least, even though he had up until now never seen one. He had only ever heard them, here and there throughout the college halls, accidentally summoned or being banished.

Finally, after much nefarious cackling from below, Maestro built up the courage to look down and see his fate. He had wondered why he wasn't dead yet for a start. Upon glancing at the daemon, he then realised why. The summoned creature was indeed a daemon. Its red skin, yellow eyes, horns and cloven feet an indicator that it was a creature of Khorne – yet it was also only – an imp…A very small daemon indeed, but still frightening to behold, in its own way…

Maestro realised that the creature was not tall enough to actually reach him, despite it trying to jump up and down. Maestro smiled eventually and called down to it, "Well well, it seems that we are at an impasse doesn't it?"

The creature looked suddenly shocked. This human, this young weak human had spoken in the dark tongue. Maestro had indeed been taught this language by his own master, the bright wizard Magnamus, but he hadn't realised he had used it here. Something in his brain had automatically made his speech adapt to the situation without him being aware.

Daemons did in fact have their own language, but the dark tongue was a language used by the forces of chaos and beastmen. In speaking it, there was an entry point to talk to daemons too.

Maestro's smug expression quickly changed to one of dismay however, as the window loop partially snapped from the wooden frame it had been built into. This effectively broke the locking mechanism. The window slowly yawned open and down, drooping Maestro closer and closer towards the imp with every moment.

With all of his strength, a greater deal more athleticism than would be the norm for him about his movements due to fear, Maestro swung from the pole as it too came free from the window completely and he jumped long and far through the air, landing on a desk about halfway back along the classroom. The imp grinned in glee, licking wistfully at a chunk of flesh attached to his claws, from some earlier victim no doubt and then it began to advance, quickly on its short little legs.

Maestro knew that he had to destroy this creature fast, for even though it was one of the admittedly lower denizens of the daemonic planes, Maestro was one of the admittedly lower wizards of the magical order. The wizard summoned as much strength as he could muster, calling for the winds of magic to aid him like they never have before – and indeed they never really had aided him in much…Then with an outward thrust of his two hands, palms outstretched towards his enemy he launched a large magical dart attack that shot towards the creature, only to fizzle out before contact.

Yes considered Maestro, that spell needed a little work. He realised he wouldn't even be able to mind dart the foe to simply give it a headache either.

Oh how the imp cackled, which turned into roaring laughter, albeit from an exceedingly high pitched voice. The imp bent over forwards, slapped his knee and pointed at the wizard.

Maestro at first considered that he had never before been so humiliated. Then he remembered some of the other things he had done in the College up until now…Well then, he knew there was nothing else for it. He couldn't fight it head on so he would have to choose one of the smallest spells he could think of, something so diminutive that the Imp's Khornite anti magical essence wouldn't shut it down, nor be considered a threat to it.

Maestro summoned his energy again, this time with his hands weaving the signs behind his back. He concentrated hard to make sure that the icons were weaved correctly as they were in reverse, but this delay mattered not as his diminutive foe was still laughing distractedly. Silently the last line of the sound spell was recited.

An incredible roaring voice shot out from behind the Imp, ending its cruel laughter and wiping all of the humour from its face. The imp began to shiver on the spot recognizing the sound bellowing behind him. It was so paralyzed with fear that it did not attempt to turn around and face the apparent newcomer.

Maestro had heard daemons throughout the College halls, but never would he forget that roar and sheer mocking supremacy of a creature he heard bellowing through one of the portals: A bloodthirster of Khorne. This was a creature considered to be the very avatar of its God's presence and will, higher in scale even than that of a mere daemon Prince. The creature breathed heavily, threateningly. The problem at this time was that while Maestro did have a minor grasp of the daemonic tongue (as much as he was allowed to see), he would not be able to have the fake beast talk convincingly to the Imp and of course if the little fellow didn't for one moment believe in the authenticity of proceedings he might well turn about and see that it was all a trick, that nothing was there. Maestro therefore did the next best thing. He had the pretend bloodthirster address him instead, speaking in a language he did know – dark tongue.

It began, "Little wizard worm. Oh I know your name Maestro Rophel Illefescion In The Flesh."

Maestro feigned an impressed nod of his head at the pretend bloodthirster getting his full title correct…The imp wasn't intelligent enough to pick up on this stupidity.

The bloodthirster continued, "You are mine, wizard, but you are not yet ready for me. You are still too weak, your soul is not yet tasty enough, your belly is not yet fat and suckling enough. But any…ANY who would harm you before you are ready for me…they will suffer in a way of my most grandiose design, that which I would restrict to those who have wronged me or offended me in the worst possible way. Blood for the blood God!"

The imp frighteningly chimed a response, "Skulls for the skull throne."

A terrifying laugh from the perceived beast made the imp's knees knock together in fright before it bellowed, "Now begone from my sight, lest I flay you and use you for a toothpick to your own flesh, all of you!"

With that, the little imp ran to the portal, not daring to look behind him before jumping through the vortex like hole in the floor and within a second he was gone, as was the opening as if it had never been there. The apprentice wizard had done it, all with the manipulation of a mere sound spell, worked masterfully like a puppet. He quickly grabbed the chalk from the nearby blackboard and drew the magic circle back in place as it was supposed to have been. He decided that when they'd ask how it had happened he would say he didn't know. When they asked him how he survived an attack from a creature of the daemonic planes, he would say it was a Khornite bloodletter under bellowed instructions from a bloodthirster too. They had heard it all, after all. That he had survived was a tale that went around between the students for some time to come, yet this only added to Maestro being considered weird and an outsider by his fellow pupils – and the hailed congratulations from the tutors only served to make Endrel despise him even more…

Tobias stared aghast at Maestro as he finished the tale, "You know Maestro, I could quite easily report this in my findings. That you were dishonest and were the cause of the very outbreak you were hailed a hero for resolving. You are a dis…honest…"

Maestro's eyes fixed on Tobias, for he had stopped talking and a strange expression had come over his features.

The halfling continued, "Dishonest…yes, yes but what was I saying. Gah, this damned robe again, so constricting." Then he pulled the offending garment off once more, revealing his black thieving garb below.

Ah yes, thought Maestro as he looked up at the moons taking to the sky, _Tobias has changed into his alter ego again. What a spot of good luck for me!_

Maestro carefully packed the scholar's robes into his backpack as he always would when Tobias changed like this. Inside the pack though he found another set of celestial wizard robes and a pointy hat. Maestro said aloud, "Gosh, is that your spare clothes Tobias?"

The halfling stared and concentrated really hard, a look of grim internal conflict on his face as two personalities fought to get to the fore. The scholar's personality had a brief flash of awakening enough for the halfling thief to respond, "Oh that thing, well you have been performing very well in your duties, that of an…inbetweeny wizard…"

Maestro helpfully jolted in with, "Journeyman?"

"Yes, journeyman, that's what your lot call it. So I planned on giving it to you so that you should at least look the part that you are ready for…I think"

Maestro's face lit up. Tobias considered him ready to be called a Journeyman at last. How wonderful. He would at least look the part and perhaps he would get some more respect from people. Then he remembered the reality of the Old World and considered that the defined appearance of a wizard in fact caused fear in people and as Maestro knew all too well, scared people did dangerous things – after all he was a scared person most of the time…

After much research by Maestro and Tobias, the group determined that this new threat, this new Khornite danger still had the worst to come and they managed to track down the position of the next shard of the creature's essence: It was somewhere in Altdorf.

The (mostly ) ill-fated group decided to take a caravan back to the Empire's capital city. The view was that there would be safety in numbers. Maestro of course considered that it also meant more chance of meeting "a crank" as he put it. But he also considered that it meant more people to die before him if something terrible were to befall them on the way.

The first day of the journey passed without incident. Dieter sat in meditation next to Ulger who just lay listlessly beside him. Dieter rested a hand to the dog's ribs to calm it. Neither enjoyed the peace as they both felt the fight was where they truly become themselves.

The few times Dieter opened his eyes, was to spy on his comrades. Maestro split his time between looking through his telescope, presumably trying to understand the future before he really understood the present. Tobias was sat on the back of the caravan writing notes in his book, observations of his journey up to this point. He also kept looking quizzically at the wizard, not remembering giving him the wizard's robes yet, but he was going to anyway, so he didn't concern too much upon it. Rissandrea fussed over any she thought might be injured which in this troupe of passengers departing from a war torn land happened to be a fair degree of its patronage. Tordrad still appeared slightly shaken from the events faced in Middenheim and walked slowly alongside, drinking occasionally from his hip flask.

Before Dieter could go back to his musings, he, Ulger and Tordrad sensed something bad coming in off of the wind to the East. A strong animal musk wafted off of the breeze from the forest and was then suddenly disappearing almost as quickly as it appeared.

Ulger pounced down from the caravan with hackles up growled at the forest, while Tordrad drew his scimitar. Dieter drew his new obsidian kris blade from its sheath and stepped cautiously toward the forest.

Just then, three beast men emerged, presumably attracted by the smell of the breakfast not long eaten. Dieter sneered at these abominations and said to Ulger, "There you go boy, seconds for you." With that he pointed his blade towards the centre atrocity and charged. Although Tordrad did not understand his words, he knew what to do. Ulger pounced on the beast man on the right tearing at the creature's throat with his own powerful jaws. Dieter smiled as he heard the offspring of chaos scream in a mixture of terror and agony. Dieter dodged the attack from the axe held by the second beast man and slashed at the thing's weapon arm, severing it. Looking at the blade he felt a familiarity and momentarily saw the world change. He saw in the mist a large figure wielding a long obsidian blade like he himself carried now. The figure turned towards him and extended it fresh from battle toward Dieter who now was dwarfed by the figure before him.

He was dragged out of this sub memory as the beastman struck him about the skull with its other arm before being impaled on Dieter's sword. The blade glowed momentarily before being wrenched out without a speck of blood on it. Looking to his left Dieter spotted that Tordrad had beheaded the beast and was busy reaching for his canteen.

Dieter shouted over his shoulder, "Anybody get hurt Rissandrea?" whilst he hacked off a leg for Ulger to eat.

"Nothing serious, Maestro just got some magical backlash from a spell he was casting. He will be fine, but please why are you cutting out their horns? Have these creatures not suffered enough at your hands?"

He looked back with eyes of both fire and pity and got back to work on the skulls of the creatures that had attacked them, "This will make them lessen their attacks. This was only a scout force. Besides I can burn some of the horn to ward off others of their kind. I would rather not fight them every five minutes. I know your order is against this kind of thing but I am also sure you do not wish to meet Morr in person before your time."

Rissandrea replied quietly, "I will meet Morr as soon as Shallya releases me from bonds of duty. Should that be even today, then so be it."

The would be doctor didn't listen. It sounded too preaching for his liking. So he finished carving out the horns and hacked off a leg for Ulger to chew on for the rest of the trip and went back to his spot on the caravan.

The incense would take some time to prepare but the fates had already decided that was time they would never be allowed to receive.

Dieter asked questioningly, "Hey Maestro have you had any luck translating that book yet? I noticed you staring at it half of the night, you seemed rather engrossed if I do say so myself."

While he awaited the wizard's response he used his scalpel to add more powdered horn to the mix, all the while an ill feeling hung over the forest. It was as though the danger was ever present but not from any one position..

His train of thought was interrupted by the wizard's high pitched annoying voice, "Actually Dieter I think I may have got it. The answer to the text finally came to me in a dream. It says and I quote from the dark scripture here," before he continued another scouting group charged out of the forest. "Yes Maestro hold that thought would you." Dieter ordered Ulger to charge in and the great doberman did as he was told.

Dieter glanced back briefly at the wizard after hearing talking coming from the man, What at first the trainee doctor thought to be recitation of the book's passages was actually a spell of some kind. Dieter ducked and found himself wishing Morrslieb was high in the sky, since only then was the Halfling of any real use. Dieter's critical eye turned next to Rissandrea, "Silly girl put the damned gun away, it will do no good here and waste precious ammunition."

From a near crouched position, Dieter swung the kris blade in an upward arc rending the beastman's flesh as though it were tissue paper. With but a thought, the blade glowed white hot as he pulled it back along the same arc searing the flesh closed while keeping the creature bleeding internally. "Anybody have an objection to me bringing this entire cadaver back with us? Since I have been with you lot my medical training has lessened between the constant fights."

Rissandrea looked sickened by the request, "How can you even call for such a thing, that creature, of chaos though it may be, is suffering in the last vestiges of life and you want to use its body to further your own endeavours. Can't you at least end its suffering? In Shallya's name I beseech you. Or perhaps you would only listen to Morr himself at this point?"

At the mention of the Death and Dream God's name Dieter turned on his heel, weapon drawn and strode towards the young priestess in training, his eyes blazing with mal-intent and rage, "You may call upon your mother or whatever she is from time to time and I accept that, you being her subordinate, her vessel on this mortal plain so to speak, however, if you such as mention HIS name around me again…so help me, I will personally escort your soul to him. I will even go so far as to put you on the death barge and sail you through the underworld myself, are we clear?"

Dieter raised the kris blade and saw in the corner of his eye Tordrad step toward him. Before he could lose all control, Dieter threw the blade backwards, sailing through the air and embedding itself into the brain of the till now just dying beast man, snarling at her "Satisfied now?"

With that the doctor strode to retrieve both the horns and his sword, "Wizard, while I am busy cutting out these horns, why don't you tell us all what that book says. Please." Glancing backwards, he offered Rissandrea what he thought a comforting smile should look like. It was just a guess.

Later that day, he chastised himself for losing it with the woman. He couldn't afford to split with them, or cause them to want to do so, lest he be separated from their sides for too long…and he just knew that Morr would then have some agent or another in his service trying to kill the group, just to spite him, yes he was convinced of that. Still though, the temper and anger within was worsening with each passing month. He was having to eat more and more of the gunpowder based cookies just to push down the "headaches" as he called them.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 57

Dieter and I had a startling confrontation today. He always seem to hold back some darker nature, but today my mention of the God Morr caused the chains holding the doctor's other side to rattle, almost to the point of snapping it seemed. I genuinely feared for my life. As I looked in to those eyes, there was little of the man I had travelled with for the last fifty or so days. What lay just beneath the skin is something of pure darkness, malevolence. I hold a new level of respect and fear towards the man now. At first I believed his aversion to Morr to be a habit of his chosen profession. After all what he does best is keep from Morr those who would normally be welcomed into his eternal domain, but Dieter's hatred goes deeper even than that. I wonder if he himself even truly understands how he feels.

I only mentioned it because I know he always does anyway. Just when he's off to take a nap in the day, he reminds us all of how he wants to keep his dreams to himself and not have them defiled by Morr at night and so on.

Oh dear Dieter, what is going on with you?

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 57

Dieter and holy girl had argument earlier. Things got heated. I thought wizard would ask me to help break it up, but doctor he know better than let it come to that. There is something dangerous below his surface. Must be cautious, for wizard's sake. Spending too much time worrying about evil of male wizard, I might not notice even bigger peril in group.

"Yes, as I was saying before those creatures so rudely interrupted" started Maestro, "It says 'The Red Flayer: proud and merciless

This child of Khorne spat in his father's eye

The Blood God drained his husk

But the essence of the Red Flayer survives

He still lives—in the Brass Skull

He still lives—in the Dagger of Yul K'chaum

He still lives—in the Chalice of Wrath

Trapped and bound, he craves blood

The Red Flayer will rise again.

I must tell you all though, those writers had very little punctuation skills. It made that a bloody hard read. Bloody hard."

Maestro began to wrap up his recitation as Deiter poured some alchohol and spat some of his special herbal bars into the chalice with the beastman horn powder.

Lighting a flint, Dieter threw a lit stick into the goblet causing a small explosion which blackened his face momentarily. "Sorry Maestro I didn't interrupt did I? The incense is prepared, it doesn't smell nice, but it should keep them at bay, for the most part."

He saw Maestro's eyebrows rise questioningly. He knew what the wizard was going to ask. He was going to ask how Dieter had learnt such things. These were things that would hint at a person being a hedge wizard: one of the illegal outlaw casters of the Empire. A person gifted (or cursed) in sensitivity to the winds of magic but without training. A wizard without training, as the magisters taught was a danger to the Empire – an easy target for the embrace of chaos. Hedge wizards would be arrested and put to death regularly. But surely Dieter couldn't have been on of those…surely not…he is a doctor…everyone knows that. One would simply be worrying needlessly.

Once more, Dieter's strong ability of constant hypnotic suggestion, words and actions that tricked and played upon the subconscious mind to make it miss certain things it might otherwise see, did their job. He always had the group in a mild constant state of delusion – and there was nothing they could do about it – because they didn't know it was happening. Dieter then sealed his technique home with a distracting question, "As a celestial wizard you can sometimes access the future can you not?" At this Maestro used his telescope to better grasp the azyr and began to scry the future, relaying the information he received to them as he himself was reading it. While he would use the aligments of the stars above as his basis, he did not perform the feats of an astrologer per se. For the stars were merely the ever shifting yet undeniable constant as a basis of inspiration, of focus. The powerful wind of azyr was like a thin mist that rose into the sky upon its arrival into the physical plane from whence it came. This blanket of raw azyr power could be read across the stars and spells then could be cast basing around their aligments as a focuser.

Maestro began, "I see… I see a barricade on the road. Lots and lots of beast men standing around it - yes it must be a trap. I also see a broken wheel. One on this caravan has broken near the back. Our lanterns are out and there are many enemies closing in. No this can not be right, I see a bright wizard." The Wizard began to come out of his trance, slightly giddy before continuing. Well that is all I saw. I hope I was mistaken because I would hate for us to fight so many beastmen.

Dieter glared at the wizard through hooded eyes. He thought of telling him that the bright wizard was already here but thought better of it. Something about the man reeked of danger and something else that the trainee physician could not place.

Dieter was sat on the lip above the wheel with his back to the caravan while the wizard read quietly, almost to himself now, from the book, his burlap sack of horns dripping along the road. That in itself was of little concerm since Ulger kept pace and lapped at the blood almost before it hit the ground. The sense of danger and his headaches were stronger now, taking the wizard's low mumbling as a good cover, the doctor called upon powers he didn't fully understand and placed his staff on the caravn itself, where it stood, seemingly as though held in place by some unseen force.

"Don't worry Maestro. Ulger shall protect you as no doubt will Tordrad. I'd say if anyone were to bring you foul of harm it would be Tobias. He seems to be of fickle thought and fouler of mood as of late. Especially in the evening.

They were now aware of the presence of a man amongst their caravan, a man who didn't look it but was identified as being a wizard. Dieter subtly pointed Maestro in the right direction. Maestro then proclaimed to the group that he had discovered the whereabouts of this wizard at last, amongst the travellers.

Dieter had mentioned then that the man gives him a bad feeling.

The halfling shuffled up to Maestro, standing between the doctor in training and the wizard, "You know Dieter, just because he has not helped us, does not mean he is bad. He has clearly finished a tour on the front lines. We can hardly expect him to fight such lowly creatures as those we fought earlier."

Dieter thought on his words and just grunted, "I suppose you are right. How do you feel since our fight with Blackrot? I must say, you seemed to hold your own quite well. At least against the smaller myriad of forces." Dieter grinned at this last but decided that he should give the halfling a break. The undersized moot dweller deserved at least a _short _cessation from their oft times mutual hostilities.

Rissandrea spoke, "I must say I feel the gods themselves smiled on us, allowing our mutual forces to push back the tide of chaos. For as long as it might last anyhow." Dieter glared at the woman who now stood behind the halfling to stay just on the edges of her awareness for now. He Felt tired both mentally and physically and it was hard work keeping up this heroic disposition – the bunkem hip-hip horay for the Empire mentality that was expected from most adventuring men. He limped to the back of the caravan to gain some space and more importantly peace in which to meditate, leaving his staff leaning against the middle procession as he did so. Ulger began to follow his master but was waved away. His eyes and Dieter's met and the dog jumped up on the lip of the vehicle, curling up around his human pack leader's staff.

The rest of the daylight hours passed without incident.

Later, after the sun sank below the rim of the world and Morrslieb shone brightly upon the group, the cart that led their procession was forced to stop as the rear wheel warped and cracked. Remembering what Maestro had said, the group jumped into action. The crew of the parade were decisive and the wheel was replaced before there was so much as a sign of attack. To feel secure, Dieter relit the basin of crushed beastman horns and the group travelled alongside the procession.

A mile ahead, they came across a barricade blocking the road, but no sign of the apparent beastmen who had surely constructed it, based on its crude design.

All of them felt uneasy. Had Maestro been wrong in his vision or was this part of the trap? Ulger stopped and looked behind them, growling low in his throat. "What is it boy? What do you hear?" Dieter needn't have asked as he already felt it. A large mob of the creatures they had fought on and off that day. The beings had been following them, being kept at bay only by the power in Dieter's clandestine spell - and the formula which slowly cooked in the bowl.

Maestro further kept them at bay, using sound spells and marsh light conjurations to confuse and worry the easily manipulated brutal beings into thinking an army of men were approaching on their flank then added, "Now I do suggest that we put out our lanterns and proceed as quickly and as quietly away from this area as we are able."

The past – The Moot

Tobias stared at the lights as they came closer. He had let his brother out of the cells earlier that night. The torches were moving from the cells out towards the forest, to where he himself now hid. The halfling felt obligated by his own perceived guilt to see his brother to safety, but as they crossed the boundary from the Moot proper, the alarms sounded.

Tobias was torn now, if he returned or more likely got captured he himself would be jailed. If he kept running, he would be considered an outlaw by his own people. The militia were close enough now that their voices could be heard and the escaping halfling was forced into desperate action. The young Wilwart struck himself about the head and loosely bound his own wrists, falling to the ground with barely any time to spare. Immediately they were on him "Master Wilwart. Are you okay? Can you tell us what happened?" it was at this point that the halfling counted his nobility as a blessing for the first time in his long – though still short by halfling standards – lifetime. He rubbed his head and thought for a moment. Before he was able to answer, a runner arrived.

"Young Master Wilwart. I bring grave news. Your father has been gravely attacked and his laboratory ransacked."

Perhaps it was the shock of hearing of his father's attack, the situation with his brother or maybe even that he had hit his head a little too hard with the stone but Tobias Wilwart fell unconscious.

The room swam into focus and Tobias recognised it as the infirmary by its antiseptic smell and white walls. Looking slowly from side to side and taking note of the stiffness in his neck, he saw his father to his left. The elder looked across at his son with anger and betrayal written across his face as surely as if they had been tattooed on there. "So I see you are awake. Do not try to move Tobias, the restraints might hurt you if you struggle. It is you who are to blame for my condition, by your actions even indirect as they may be. Do you believe I am unaware that it was you who got your brother hooked on those damnable substances in the first place?"

The younger Wilwart was stunned into silence, taking a few moments to formulate a response. "Father please, it has torn me asunder knowing that I am in part at least responsible for Frederick's predicament. If I could travel back in time I would do nothing the same."

Cut off by a gesture from his father Jeremiah, he watched as his father was racked by a coughing fit and noticed the blood that escaped his mouth with every cough. "Do not deem to call me Father or deflect from the level of your guilt Tobias. The guild found me deep in my work whilst you had my militia chasing you across the Moot. They wanted the formula. The same formula they wanted Frederick to acquire. I refused them to protect you both…Were I to have smashed the beaker on the floor, they could have taken samples still, or pulled up the floorboards themselves for study by their alchemists. That formula is the pride of our family. My greatest accomplishment in alchemy and now I am dying for it."

Tobias stared into space, the shock reeling him. His eyes began to fill without warning. He asked his father, "How is it that you are so gravely sick…father?"

The older halfling coughed again and took his time with the reply, finally saying, "I put the contents of the potion in the one place that they could never access it. I drank it, son."

A look of horror tore across Tobias's face. His father shook his head in a dismissively stern manner, even in such an ill state as this, "fool of a boy, you will never be an alchemist. You have no talent for that which is your heritage, boy. My body is breaking down the ingredients via my digestive system. Churning them away. My final grand gesture of transmutation for the potion - through my own body." He coughed again before righting himself and continued, "I have one thing left to say to you before you are sent to the cells to take your brother's place. If you take the knowledge of the formula and keep it safe within your head, I will allow you to leave these lands, not to return under punishment of death. From here on you will be of House Wilwart in name only. Your selfishness has cost the life of your brother once the men find him and shortly myself too. So you are given the choice, the freedom of banishment or life imprisoned and the guild riding you 'til your last breath escapes your shell."

His father died minutes later. Tobias spent one night in the cells wracked with guilt for the lives he had ruined through his own addiction. By next morning there was no sign of the last of House Wilwart in the boundaries of The Moot.

Of Frederick's fate, there was no knowledge.

The Present – An Inn one day's travel from Altdorf.

Tobias was still sat on the wheel arch of one of the caravans where Dieter had placed him - after picking him up in his semi conscious state. "What? Where am I? Where is the small army that tried to attack us from the rear?" asked Tobias.

Dieter was quick to pipe up angrily, "Go back to sleep mongrel creature. And remember, you freeze like that again and I will leave you to whatever the fates have concocted for you. Thanks to the wizard and his quick thinking we managed to get to safety. We are staying at the inn here until morning. We will all be home by noon tomorrow. I waited out here to ensure your safety, foolish as it might be. Now let us go inside before you catch your death of something..." Dieter waited for the halfling to enter then grabbed his stave and followed behind. If anyone else were about they may have spotted a shadow of it burned into the wood of the caravan.

As the pair entered they were greeted by Maestro and the rest of the group. The bright wizard Wolfgang Scheunacht stood behind Maestro and seemed to be very interested in all of them now gathered. Dieter quickly saw a flash of some dark energy emanate from within the wizard and from the guarded looks on Maestro and Rissandrea they too noticed something with their magical senses. They were old hands now at spotting something wrong in a person. Dieter wondered how he'd gotten away with it for so long, in that case. Ulger looked uneasy under the table.


	21. Chapter 21

**Their Fated Travels…**

Written around the events taking place in the RPG book 'Spires of Altdorf', containing this group's contributive efforts told from an alternative original stand point. Written by Robert James Freemantle

Chapter 21

The Council of Seer Magisters

Approximately 150 years ago –

The Celestial College –

At a time when the College was structurally much smaller than it appeared in modern day, as over time the magisters commissioned yet more and more towers to be annexed upon its upper reaches, jutting off and out at some fairly unusual angles – all indeed in an attempt at simply getting closer to the star constellations that the wizards of this order, Maestro's order held in such importance. With each new tower built upon the college, telescopes would soon be seen jutting up out from skylight windows. Maestro once figured that its appearance was reminiscent of a huge snail with multiple antenna stalks all over it. He then considered that this could be perceived as heretical thought processes on the subject of mutants and stopped trying to think it at all.

But back then, around a century and a half ago, inside the old College, down the passages and halls, past various secretly hidden doors, deep down within the sub-basement of a sub-basement level was a secret chamber.

Clandestine meetings would take place here, attended by only the highest ranking and trusted magisters of the order – who formed: the Seer Council.

In these early days of the College's foundation, the council was seen as an extra protective element to mankind, attempting to gather their future-sight abilities in one place and divining the probable outcome of the future.

This was done first as an attempt at deciding what elements of the College's structure should be and should not be built. Into the future, if it was divined by the council that a new tower would crumble and fall, or bring about some terrible mishap, perhaps someone important accidentally falling to their death from an upper window, then invariably the construction of any new tower or architecture there would be halted.

"That is obviously a rogue magister coming to meet them! But they appear to suspect anyway…What happens next?"

Council Magister Artwieb stared at Council Magister Viez, for he was becoming a little too excited by the happenings of his string of future vision. Magister Viez looked around and saw the expressions of the other Council Magisters looking at him sternly. He shifted uneasily, suddenly looking small in his great oak and metal clasp bound chair, a style that was replicated around the Council Chamber for each member to sit their posterior upon – that's when they weren't suddenly standing, convulsing, or doing some other strange physical action as a result of a particularly strenuous portent.

Council Magister Artwieb continued to speak, "It doesn't matter what happens next. We are at present concerned about _more important things_, councillor."

They had gathered within the chamber tonight to view the matter of Altdorf and Nuln's potential destruction from flood a long time away in the future – weighing up whether the actions of a human called Felix Jaeger and a dwarf slayer named Gotrek Gurnisson would be enough to stop this disastrous possibility.

They fixed their attentions together upon a large azure blue crystal, twenty four feet tall. This was placed in the centre of the chamber so that they could use it as a focal point in attempting to divine together for more accurate results.

Council Magister Viez looked down in embarrassment and stated, "I couldn't help it I'm afraid, I was drawn to their story. I will try to concentrate on your joint effort – I apologise."

"Don't fret it, Councillor" came the reassuring tone of Council Magister Abt, "His scheme doesn't pay off. The others don't fall for it, that much I saw."

Suddenly all eyes were upon the new speaker, sterner still in their reprimanding glance.

"Wonderful" started Magister Artwieb, "another one. It's becoming infectious is it? This story? This thread of future?"

The other magisters shuffled and looked around nervously. One of their most senior members, Council Magister Ehrlichmann, a wizard with a long white beard that would garner the respect of any dwarf spoke up, "I think none of us can deny – as much as we would like to that there is something of their story pulling us all towards it. I can see it in your minds eyes, all of you, that you have seen elements of their travels in your visions. The fact that this particular string of fate is coming to the fore is perhaps too much of a concurrence to ignore."

The other members of the congregation solemnly nodded their heads in agreement.

"Well that does it then" retorted magister Artwieb, "It looks like the fate of Altdorf and Nuln will rest solely in the hands of Gotrek and Felix. May the emperor preserve us."

Artwieb then took a good look around the chamber at the other magisters whose eyes were now fixed upon him, a look of hope in them as they waited for him to continue speaking. This compelled him to continue, "Then we must investigate why this silly string of fate is coming all of to our attentions, if only to keep it from deterring our _real_ work safeguarding the timelines before us."

Council Magister Viez spoke again, "From that which I have seen, of the strings of fate that the other honourable magisters present have witnessed, it seems there is one person within this group who continually ties events together –"

- "Maestro Rophel Illefescion!" spoke the always uncompromising Tobias.

"In the flesh" corrected Maestro.

"Yes, always with the title isn't it, you silly fool of a wizard." Came the halfling's response, "If you were to simply focus your aethyric senses upon it, you would find that all is not as it seems. I am a halfling, with no magical senses whatsoever and even I can tell that this item is not simply mundane." With that, Tobias sighed in frustration.

Maestro stared again at the looted item they had procured, dropped from the daemon when it had attacked them in the tavern moments ago. They had opened a letter intended for the group and delivered by courier – and upon doing so, the daemon had appeared. There had been a mad scramble inside the Two-Headed Goose tavern of Altdorf, much to the dismay of the barkeep after Maestro and his companions had shown up again and caused yet more trouble for his patrons and staff. But all of that now brought us to this moment, with Maestro looking down into a scabbard filled with water.

He sloshed it around a bit and peered deep into it. He gave it a smell and then made to drink some, before Tobias grabbed his arm and began once more with his chastising tone, "Don't drink it Maestro, that's the wrong way to test it."

Maestro raised a finger as if having a thought, "Ah yes, you're quite right."

The wizard then took the empty hilt he had held in his other hand and placed it back where he'd found it, back atop the scabbard. He focused his thoughts on the idea that there should be a sword inside of it. He focused magic into his hands and held that idea as a concrete thought, as a fact, surely the water had to magical, had to be a weapon – yes that was it. Suddenly, as Maestro pulled the hilt out again, the water was no longer inside the scabbard. It had attached itself to the hilt, into the shape of a sword.

Tobias and the others stared in disbelief, but then realised it was happening to Maestro and that anything was possible.

The wizard closed his eyes, as he listened to the magical resonance coming from the gushing water that swirled around inside the sword's bladed shape.

Suddenly Maestro spoke, "Its name is River's Edge. I can feel a presence within it. It is relieved to be free."

Tobias nodded with satisfaction, "Good, now you have it. Most magical weapons have a presence within them, a will of some sort. Only those gifted in the magical arts stand a chance of hearing them and only their true masters will be able to understand them. That you know this much already is a very good sign Maestro. It suggests that you should keep this weapon as your own. Congratulations."

150 years ago –

The Celestial College –

Council Magister Artwieb spoke, "Well then, it seems their many investigations will lead them to the College of Light. The dagger artefact they sought lies there. They will go very much around the mulberry bush to get it, perhaps there is something we should prepare in place?"

Magister Viez spoke, "But do they succeed in getting it?"

Artwieb replied, "From what I have seen, ultimately yes they do – ah I see, yes then we can leave them be."

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 75

Oh dear, we have had our tavern rooms broken into and our belongings rummaged through. Who would do such a thing?

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 75

I am glad they didn't find the body parts, or take my gunpowder bars. Without them, my increasingly worse headaches would be impossible…to handle. I can't tell what I would do…

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 76

Finally we have unveiled that bright wizard, Wolfgang for what he really is. As we discovered his true plans, he offered us a chance to join him in his malefic schemes. Fat chance! We aided in his departure from this mortal coil. May Sigmar protect his soul. Though I doubt Sigmar could, for the man in question was chaos corrupted.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 77

Well then, who should we run into but our old problematic friend, Malvanius, Altdorf's Iron Tower witch hunter captain. Such a displeasure to see him again. I can never tell if he wants to arrest me or recruit me. I'm starting to wonder if perhaps he can't decide either. He was of some use though, arresting some thugs that attacked us. It was made to look like a petty mugging. We of course know different. I always suspect the worst – that way I can enjoy being pleasantly surprised when everything works out fine. Though of late, I haven't had much opportunity to be pleasantly surprised.

150 years ago –

The Celestial College –

"Yes." Began Council Magister Artwieb, "this woman will keep trying to have them killed before she herself is caught by the group themselves no less. But how does she figure into all of this?" as he tried to pull of the pieces of a puzzle yet to happen, together.

Viez raised a finger, his expression a clear visage of someone trying to be helpful, "If I may? All things here are connected now. Each of us are seeing a different part of the story, but fate has connected them. This is turning out to be something threatening to the old world."

Council Magister Artwieb replied, If the future shows the destruction of the old world, you know there is nothing we can do to stop that which is pre-ordained on so strong a fateful timeline."

Viez spoke up again, in response, "I would agree with you. There is nothing we can do to stop the future as it is. That is already in place and will come to pass, as did the past and present thereafter. Though my fellow honourable scholars, I would ask you to be mindful of the fundamentals of our secretive order. It is our place to divine major events before us, but perhaps…perhaps there is something that can be done – something that can be put in place by us to help them. For consider this: Perhaps the future we are seeing relies on the fact that we have done as much. Perhaps it is our destiny to do so."

Artwieb glared at Viez, the younger man had pulled him up on seer protocol in front of everyone else present – he wouldn't forget that – as he asked, "Then what would you suggest we as a council do?"

There was a long pause in the chamber – as each wizard looked upon one another intently, for signs of inspiration coming to the fore. Each looked as if he was about to speak and then reconsidered the futility of his actions, already hearing the jeering response from the others in his mind's eye, were he to do so. This was the tricky thing with future reading: So much could be decided beforehand and indeed not even attempted. It of course got more complicated when you had a chamber full of such gifted individuals all attempting to converse. Some chose to willingly switch off premonition for acts of conversation, believing it to stifle their flow of imagination. Perhaps this stifling effect was the reason that no ideas were yet coming about.

Just then, Council Magister Ehrlichmann stood up, shaking with a future vision coming about inside his head. The crystal in the centre of the room confirmed this with its continued pulsing. He spoke aloud, "The…the dagger is the artefact of he who wishes to doom this party. Part of his soul essence is stored within it. The group will obtain the dagger at last. Good…I see them bringing it to a female wizard of the amethyst order. She is holding an…incantatory ritual to nullify its power. She succeeds. The daemon's soul is now weakened – for when it strikes its final time, it will not be whole as it will have hoped."

Viez chuckled, "Oh forget all of that; of course I knew they would succeed. What I'm really interested in is how such a stupid bone idle wizard as this is able to rise to such power in so short a time. It seems that everything rests with him does it not? Only someone so pre-occupied by a need to be an engineer and not a powerful wielder of aethyr could remain uncorrupted in the face of things to come."

The council magister then burst out laughing at the silliness of it all. The others present only smiled politely, for fear of being shown up. Artwieb butted in, "Alright, then how does a fool wizard like this even get to the position where he is allowed to journey out in the world? Ahh, I see, the Emperor of that time, one Karl Franz – he fears the man – fears what he is capable of…oh I see a hat, falling from the Emperor's head – hit by a spell."

"Hahaha, yes, that's it!" laughed Viez, unable to control himself any longer, "But his imbecility is key to the future's chance at succeeding. We must make sure that the Patriarch allows him continued passage within the halls here – regardless of what…idiocies he will bring about in his stay."

Artwieb reluctantly sighed, "Yes…unfortunately you were always going to be correct on that point weren't you? Alright then, we shall send a letter to the Patriarch of that time, date stamped and not to be opened until such time as is appropriate for him to read it. Just what will that wizard do next I wonder?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle

Chapter 22

The Magister Path

The streets of Altdorf shined with a glaze from water on the ground. Showers had poured down earlier that morning.

The sun was now glowing with enthusiasm, thought Maestro, or mocking him at the very least as he and Tobias squinted their eyes – making their way towards the Celestial College once more.

Tordrad had been left at the front gate, but even though he was standing practically next to the College, its magical influences managed to make it hide away from the Kislevite's mind once more. Tordrad could only guess where he had last seen the building and stared in that general direction waiting for Maestro to re-appear. He soon got bored with that and wandered off to find a tavern.

As the two robed fellows made their way around the garden paths, Tobias's face was full of serious discipline guided by concern. "Maestro, this is your final test, a chance to prove yourself to the Sirs. I can only do so much for you. If you complete this you will be a magister at long last."

Maestro sighed with the great weight on his shoulders as together they made their way through the servants' entrance before doubling back and coming through the front door instead, giving each other a knowing look.

"Remember", said Tobias, "You don't have to win, just impress them."

Maestro commented, "I'm sure nothing I do will impress them Master Wilwart."

Tobias cocked his head and looked at the man, "Why not? You've impressed me."

Maestro stopped in his tracks and began to get left behind, his face a mask of shock. Tobias had gotten quite a way ahead and looked around, seeing that this was getting them nowhere he quickly added, "Sometimes, only sometimes of course."

Maestro began stepping forward a little as Tobias spurred him on, "Come on Maestro, we're supposed to be there quicker than it would take if we came through the back door. Hurry up."

Maestro snapped out of it and caught up as the haughty halfling hurried on without him, his quick little feet padding along the beautifully designed marble floor in this section.

Maestro didn't have much to say. It all felt like a dream. He never thought he would actually be here, being tested to become a full magister - a master wizard of his order.

He had passed the other tests set out for him. He had proven his mastery and adaptation of the higher spells. He had proven his nerve for battle and his growing confidence in his own abilities. He had studied and passed the tests to prove his knowledge of the world. He could speak at least six languages and had some minor knowledge of others. He had even started a museum within the College, collecting some of the items he had acquired from adventures so far. Every single master, except Magnamus had betted against him yet here he was, about to face the final test. It was a dreadful shame that Magnamus himself couldn't be present. His bright wizard leanings might have thrown off Maestro's focus of the heavens lore energies – the winds of azyr which was a hazy mist like substance that floated about in the upper atmosphere, which he would view through his witchsight and telescope.

The shocking thought hit Maestro, that if he did become a master, he too could take on an apprentice. He still felt like an apprentice himself! Yet others were impressed with him now. Perhaps he had always been so disconnected with the idea of advancement that he had created an unbalanced overestimation of what even a journeyman's power level should be, let alone a master. There was no time to debate these things with Tobias. The halfling would no doubt shout at him, telling him the same. He would tell him to concentrate on the task ahead, to make sure he doesn't end up at Morr's Gates by not focusing his protective wards correctly. He decided to save time and not say anything.

Soon they had arrived at the Magister's Halls. Their contact, one Master Tharich waited for them, facing a hallway that he expected them to emerge from. Maestro and Tobias had emerged from a different side however and were now approaching the man from behind. Tharich had never liked Maestro. He disliked his lazy attitude and today was an uncomfortable circumstance for them to both find themselves in.

"Hello Sir" started Maestro from behind the other wizard.

Tharich looked around in surprise, horror on his face at being wrong. He questioned them, "But…but I divined your entry through the service quarters. You came that way to throw me off, like the old lessons. You could only have come from that passage over there." He pointed with a slightly shaking finger at the corridor he had been facing.

Tobias grinned at last.

This was made worse by the fact that Master Tharich had been Maestro's teacher in several subjects, including lessons of 'cognitive future sight' of which he was a specialist.

Maestro replied, "Ah yes, but I divined that you would divine this and hence I came through the front door instead."

"You…divined…ME?…" spluttered Tharich. As the realisation washed over him like a cold torrent of water, he shivered before taking a deep breath of acceptance and continued as professionally as he could, "I am to escort you to the final assessment chamber and answer any questions you might have." as he pointed at a wall a short way down the corridor. Maestro and Tobias could plainly see that it was only a normal wall.

Maestro looked questioningly at the master wizard but as soon as he had looked at the wall again, it had changed. Stairs now led down through a rounded opening. Maestro gasped and Tobias laughed heartily. This was truly the reason he remained in the job, for he got to see such wonders every day. He would sometimes explain that his title was 'Magical Misconductor' as opposed to Maestro's 'conductor' of magical winds.

As they walked down the stairs that led to two large doors Maestro started, "There is not supposed to be doorway here, I've been past here lots of times and never have I seen one."

Tharich smirked, "So much to still to learn, that is precisely why you never saw it, because it's not supposed to be there."

As Maestro pushed the double doors open Tharich stated, "Before you enter this room, be sure that you are ready. This will be the final test. You do not have to win. How could you possibly win anyway? Inside will be a wizard to duel you, to test you, but make no mistakes, he will be better than you are. You need only perform well to impress him, then you will pass."

Maestro looked at Tobias who gave him a re-assuring nod. Tobias was putting it on to keep the wizard at ease. Maestro couldn't tell. He was more concerned about which magister he would be fighting inside. At least it wasn't Tharich, he thought. Tharich was a stern combatant. He had put several students in the infirmary. Although it was normal in magical ward practice lessons for students to be harmed, in this case they were sometimes blasted so hard for such a distance that they did end up literally in the infirmary, through the window that looked out on the training ground. At least they wouldn't get shattered with glass, because the staff quickly caught on and kept the window open during training lessons…

Maestro pushed the great doors open quickly and stepped in as fast as he could, before his feet could find the time to argue against it.

He was standing inside a large room. Its exact size was indefinable because the edges disappeared off into shadows. What he could see though was a long way back indeed. He realised that the walls were in fact painted black, or at least those by the door had been but…where was the door? Maestro turned right around and couldn't see the door anymore. He was standing in the middle of this vast room, surrounded by grey marble pillars that had electric blue veins running through them, spaced across the room at regular intervals as supports to the massive ceiling above. None of it made sense. This room couldn't exist here, thought Maestro, it was too big. As the wizard stared up at the ceiling, he could see it had painted stars, planets and moons upon it. It was so lavishly created that it looked almost real. Maestro saw movement up there on the ceiling suddenly. A tiny shooting star moved down from the ceiling and into the room, descending just past his overly large nose. He went cross-eyed trying to follow it and then snapped out of it, realising the danger he was probably in. This feeling had been brought on by the sensation of something closing in on him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He was scared. At last he would have to fight a magister and he would be on his own. No Tordrad to step in front and take the blows for him. No Rissandrea to use her warming influence and healing abilities to keep them on track. No Dieter to…to do whatever it was Dieter did. As he thought about it he realised that he couldn't quite think of what role Dieter actually played in their party. The more he tried to think of what Dieter actually did, the more uncomfortable it was to concentrate on. Again, he realised that all of this had been another mental distraction as he felt the presence closing in once more, like a magical garrotte. This time he snapped out of his thought process just in the nick of time, realising that whatever it was, it had gotten too close this time.

Maestro quickly moved behind a pillar and hid. He reached out with his senses and felt nothing. His witchsight couldn't make out any specific fluctuations within the room because the entire area was flooded was an overabundance of azyr, the blue winds of the Heavens. Trying to look at his surroundings with witchsight only made the room harder to concentrate on. There was too much visual stimulus all around him.

A voice behind him made him jump, "You can't hide from fate Maestro."

Maestro's heart was beating fast, but before its second beat Maestro had already turned around to face the person who had crept up on him. He had perfectly masked his presence within the energy flows. Maestro didn't doubt that the man could have walked right up to him and stood beside him at any time. Perhaps he had been already.

Within a fraction of a moment everything became apparent and Maestro was surprised again. Standing before him was someone he didn't expect to see: Stern Glanzend - the Magister Patriarch. Standing there was no master wizard. It was a wizard lord. The most powerful chosen of all celestial wizard lords in the old world. Maestro couldn't help but feel honoured, not realising the implications as he asked, "Gosh, it's you Magister Patriarch. What an honour that you would come here to referee my bout against the master I am to fight today."

The old man was of considerable age, yet the power level he exuded was on another level completely, more than Maestro had ever witnessed in any wizard, ever. He stood resplendent in the blue and grey robes of their order, holding a staff that was painted as black as the night sky upon the ceiling above them. Upon his head he wore a skullcap, adorned with magical gems that pulsed eerily. His fingers were decorated in rings of varying colours. Small lights of energy that ran surplus from his body danced off and into the air only to dissipate into nothingness – a continual aura of magical magnificence.

"Yes" started the old Patriarch, "I will be your judge. But there will be no magister here to face you, Maestro. I will be your opponent."

Maestro laughed dismissingly and with a wave of his hand he replied, "Now that's a good one! Hahha. Seriously, who am I fighting Sir?"

"Me" answered the Patriarch sternly, who for some reason wasn't laughing along with Maestro's joke. It was at about that time that Maestro realised that there was no joke.

The cowardly wizard jumped in fright, his entire body a picture of exclaim as he hurriedly enquired, "No no no there must be a magister to fight. It is unprecedented to have the Magister Lord Patriarch fight, especially against an unproven journeyman such as myself."

The old grey haired man squinted one eye and leaned forward to emphasize his point, "Precisely. But you are an unprecedented student, Maestro Rophel Illefescion."

"…In the flesh" added Maestro.

"Yes yes, in the flesh and all of the other titles you will be one day known by" came the Patriarch's reply.

Maestro considered this and quickly retorted, "Why does everyone always have a problem with me anyway? They say I might be dangerous."

"You might" came the old man's reply.

Maestro continued, "They said it was safer that I remain out of the city."

"It is" came the Patriarch's reply.

Maestro was a picture of obvious questions, his face was easily read. The patriarch beat him to it, "You have always been considered different, an outsider. You were always feared. Even the Emperor feels unsafe around you, doesn't he? You've asked around, lots of times. No one will ever tell you, will they?"

Maestro nodded solemnly.

The old man continued, "It was better for your development into a magister, to not know."

Maestro almost exploded with nearly two decades of frustration, "Not know what?"

The old man smiled with some satisfaction, "Perform well, impress me to become a magister – then I will tell you what you want to know."

A look of new determination appeared on Maestro's face. He then realised again the futility of such a feeling. Here he faced the strongest wizard lord of his order. Maestro's voice shook nervously as he asked, "When does this fight begin?"

The Patriarch looked serious for a moment and then spoke with a voice like the cracking of lightning, "Now".

At once the old man's azyr control erupted around his body in a huge burst of energy. He appeared to channel and cast two spells, all at once, as his body sparkled momentarily with one hue then another.

Maestro began to fall back at once as heard a familiar incantation being recited. He knew he still had enough time to duck behind the pillar. However the weavings of the spell proved to be faster than he had ever thought possible. The Patriarch's speed was awesome to behold, channelling with one hand and committing two handed magical weaves with just one hand to cast one spell while speaking aloud to incant the other.

The energies formed into a spell which fired out and struck Maestro, blowing his robes back with aethyric force just as he ducked behind the pillar.

He stood concealing himself behind the pillar knowing that he had been afflicted with a curse spell. He did not have the power to dispel it either. Already he would be at a disadvantage in his every action from here on.

He cast the second portent of amul on himself, so that he might foresee key events with extra clarity. A sort of de-ja-vu brought about on purpose. He did not doubt that the Patriarch had done the same already.

Maestro then shrouded his body in aethyric armour, as Master Tharich had taught him. It would absorb at least some degree of damage taken, for wizards would not wear actual armour. Every wizard knew - one of the first things they were taught - wearing any sort of armour would mean a drop in one's control of the aethyric energies, as it would interfere with it flowing in and around one's body.

Maestro prepared himself and gulped once to swallow what felt like his heart in his throat before coming out from behind the pillar speaking the words of a curse spell. The Patriarch was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly he could feel the ominous presence he had felt before looming in towards him again. His opponent was going to attack him and he didn't know where it would come from. He was practically a sitting duck out there. He knew that no-matter what he chose to do, the Patriarch will have already foreseen moments before, so he could choose the correct moment to strike. It was also this thought that gave him his solution. Instead of using the second portent of amul to read his opponent's next action, what if he were to read his own actions before he'd made them? Surely those same actions would be the same images seen by the Patriarch at the exact same moment!

Maestro gazed quickly into his mind's eye and there saw himself walking to the right, looking for the patriarch who appeared suddenly from behind a pillar behind him.

After seeing this image Maestro began moving right, just as he had seen, but stopped one pillar short and faced the opposite way, to the direction the Patriarch appeared from in his vision. He decided on this new course of action and took a step forwards ready to look behind the pillar but changed his mind suddenly. Quickly he stepped left and away from it before turning around and walking towards a different pillar entirely.

Maestro gazed into his mind's eye once more, this time seeing the Patriarch appear beside him on the left before blasting him with lightning. It looked painful, so he hoped that wouldn't happen. He had to trust the idea.

Now away from the vision again, he began walking forwards and then stepped right a few times and started running forwards quickly only to randomly decide a direction of left to turn at the next pillar. He quickly saw a vision of the Patriarch appearing behind him soon when he doubles back on himself. Maestro knew that the Patriarch understood what he was doing, but that didn't matter. He chose to ignore the future of doubling back on himself and kept going instead. No footsteps could be heard, other than his own.

Maestro was alive with concentration. Beads of sweat appeared across his face as he quickly then decided to double back on himself instead. He came up behind the Patriarch who was creeping up towards a different pillar. The old man snapped around and began channelling a spell but Maestro was prepared this time. He had maintained his channelling well all throughout this entire gruelling process and loosed off a curse spell to the Patriarch. It connected. Maestro quickly forward rolled behind another pillar and took cover against an attack that never came.

Maestro had concealed so many multiple bluffs within his bluffs by reading his own future movements that when he had changed his mind and those changes had been perceived, he then changed the changing of his mind and did the original thing again. All of these actions had stacked up enough to confuse his opponent.

Maestro refreshed the portent of amul spell on himself and stood out in the open, with eyes closed. He put one hand forward, facing palm outwards, his energies were channelled and ready. The azyr warned him of a vision, of his lying on the ground being choked by the most vicious silence spell he had ever seen. He began nervously laughing. The laughing grew louder as the Patriarch appeared and cast his silence spell. Tendrils of aethyric power clutched at Maestro's mind telling him that a hand was choking him. His own laugh cut short and he gagged. At that moment he fought an internal war of willpower.

The laughing started up again, much to the horror of the Magister Patriarch, who was still reciting a spell. It was clear on his face as Maestro's own eyes snapped open and he spoke aloud, "It isn't as easy as that to shut me up, believe me, many have tried."

From Maestro's extended palm shot a silence spell of his own. It took the Magister Patriarch by surprise and he suddenly found that he could not speak. Whatever it was that he had cast though had already finished.

Suddenly a strong wind blew up around Maestro and knocked him to his knees. He supported himself with this staff, trying to not be blown over. The Patriarch stared grimly at Maestro, wincing now and then as he tried to remove the spell from himself internally.

Maestro unleashed an electric bolt of pure aethyr towards the Patriarch. It hit, most of it was absorbed by the magical wards he had cast upon himself, but some had gotten through. The old man looked impressed with Maestro and smirked. It had been a long time since any wizard had made him feel pain. His look of growing interest in the younger man turned into a look of fright suddenly when he saw Maestro was casting another lightning bolt. This time the old man whipped his robes up and around in a frontal circular arc which absorbed most of the attack. The rest arced away round either side of him harmlessly.

Maestro struggled to leave the vortex of wind he found himself in. He was standing once more but couldn't move. He even had to incant the words to his lightning bolt spells with his head cocked to one side so that the torrents of aethyric wind didn't take his breath away.

The Patriarch stepped backwards once and side stepped three times to the left where he vanished out of all existence. It was as if he had stepped behind a brick wall that had been painted the exact colour tones of the room behind it. Maestro wondered how this could be, considering that it might have been a spell he left in place from earlier, or perhaps it was one of the natural elements of this strange room itself. As he pondered these things and still failed to escape the raging winds about him, the Patriarch recovered from the silence spell that had afflicted him. His body had been scorched with the one shot that had gotten through and the old man didn't want to risk another making full contact contact. Though his body was weaker than younger men, his strategies, his techniques, his defences, these were superior. He decided he would combine them altogether to finish the wizard as quickly as possible. He suddenly realised how impressive Maestro was in a fight, to force him to have such thoughts. Regardless of how talented he was though, the Magister Patriarch was regarded as the number one master combat strategist wizard in the Empire. His remote meditative guidance in the storm of chaos had proven the downfall of Archaon recently. One of the major reasons the Everchosen's attack wasn't as strongly supported at other walls as it should have been. More pressure on other walls would have diverted defenders to spread thinner.

The Patriarch had his plan now. It was just a matter of picking the right moment to execute it. Before he could though, his invisible wall shimmered and evaporated in front of him.

Maestro had no idea where the Patriarch was. His silence spell would have faded by now and he knew counter-attack was imminent.

The younger wizard came to a decision, casting a spell towards the ceiling. Something about it interacted with the stars that were part of the astrologically themed paintwork, making them shine brighter than they ever should until their glow emanated down into the room for quite a way around them in a large circle of effect. Suddenly a shimmering of "nothingness and somethingness tussling for existence over the same spot" drew Maestro's eye as he spoke those words quietly to himself with intrigue.

The wind vortex stopped at last as Maestro thanked his lucky stars, then chortled at the joke he'd accidentally made. This momentary lapse in concentration was all it took for him to lose sight of the Patriarch once more.

Suddenly from behind a pillar to the side the older wizard stepped out swinging his staff skilfully.

Maestro only just raised his own wooden staff in time to block the attack that was aimed for his throat. The old man pressed the attack and Maestro was immediately on the defensive, parrying and blocking as best as he could. He brought his staff high at one end and low at the other, fending off every upper body attack from the old man.

The patriarch swept low suddenly and dragged his staff around in a low arc. Maestro had the sense to jump over it, but as he landed, the old man's follow up leg sweep made contact, sending Maestro sprawling onto his back. As Maestro tried to get back up, the Patriarch pointed his finger towards Maestro's staff and it flew out of his momentarily weakened grip across the room, clattering some distance away against a far off pillar.

The Patriarch quickly brought his staff down onto Maestro's shoulder and he felt that arm go dead. Maestro took a step back, getting ready to grab the next lunge but the old man simply cast a lightning bolt! It was at an alarmingly close proximity. Maestro didn't even have time to scream, as he was sent flying backwards across the room. As he hit the polished floor he kept sliding along on his back.

Maestro felt a familiar power source coming up on his left at any moment. He reached out and grabbed his staff back again as he kept on sliding.

The bolt of lightning had been massive. His hair was singed and more of it had turned grey in two places (although he didn't know that yet).

His body ached with the burnt feeling. His senses had been fried and he had been subjected to such pain the like of which he had never felt before. His face was blackened, worse towards his lower jaw and chin. One piece of his long hair that ran down the side was actually on fire. He only realised that when he smelt the smoke and quickly waved and patted it to put the miniature blaze out before it could catch his head on fire, or so he thought.

Maestro commented aloud, "I can't afford to be hit by one of those again or it will blast me to high heavens…oh, hah I made a joke there without realising."

The Patriarch's stern face came into view once more, through Maestro's blurring eyes that were straining to correct themselves amidst the irritating smoke that poured up from his robes. Maestro fired a magical dart at the old man which he knocked aside with ease, with a swipe from the back of his hand.

Maestro desperately fired another bolt of electricity from his finger tips. The shocking blue aethyric bolts struck the ground where the old master had been standing but he was nowhere to be seen. Maestro considered the possibility that he had disintegrated from the attack but threw that idea aside as being silly.

As the younger man looked around trying to find the Patriarch's location, a sudden cracking splitting sound above him made him look up. An aethyric thundercloud had gathered overhead, much larger than anything he had ever seen, let alone created. He started to run but the effects of the lightning storm were far and wide, as far as his eyes could see, about the room. The air around him was positively charged and within moments a bolt of lightning was bound to hit him!

He had to think fast. He supercharged the metal fastenings that were shaped like sharpened talons at the tip of his staff. Their purpose, to hold his cobalt coloured powerstone in place at the end. Once the metal had started to glow with a positive charge, he threw the staff up into the air. It penetrated the storm cloud and pushed back out of it, remaining levitated in the air. The positive charge in his staff was just enough to keep the positively charged lightning bolts from striking down on him, while he remained below the staff.

A single thunderclap of applause rang out through the great room of contests. The Patriarch's voice was loud, coming from all directions at once, "Very impressive work Maestro. You are a genius. Just think, if we had never made you leave to find your life outside of this city you never would have discovered just how brilliant you were."

Those words were of little comfort to Maestro right now, for he knew that the old man still meant to do him harm. Maestro had to rely on the electrostatic repulsion effect above and wait for the next move.

Suddenly his spectacles cracked on the left side. He took them off and threw them away, reaching into a sack inside his backpack where he pulled out another pair. After quickly examining them he put them on commenting, "Ah, my mountain climbing spectacles, well these will just have to do" to no one in particular. The different spectacles that Maestro wore for seemingly eccentric uses were a topic of some debate throughout even the wizard's collegiate community. Maestro would procure or steal lenses from the Celestial College's telescopes and use his own talents of engineering to create different spectacles. It was argued by some that perhaps Maestro's belief that the spectacles were improving a particular area of his sight was enough for them to seemingly work, for him at least. Another argument held that due to the magical nature of the objects the glass was removed from, surely there was a chance that each was somehow imbued with some otherwordly property. Whatever the reason was, nobody ever seemed to conclude that he should be punished for theft and vandalism to the College telescopes.

Maestro could not see the Patriarch, but the great wizard lord recited a spell under his breath and quickly levitated off the ground. He continued to float up as high as he could.

The Patriarch's disembodied voice rang out again, "You have given up your staff. Now how will you defend yourself, student?"

Maestro's face became grim. He reached his hand behind his lower back, gripping the handle of his sword, keeping it firmly sheathed for the time being.

Maestro had stared at the Patriarch for long enough during the encounter to now recognize his unique effects on the aethyr around them. Before, it had been impossible to identify, for the azyr had all looked the same but he was now almost completely sure that the old man's presence had a unique trail leading to it. He decided to trust his own guess and he quickly searched the room, looking not with his eyes but with his newly honed witchsight. Everywhere he scanned, the energy readings of azyr were erratic, but none matched the particular erratic pattern that belonged to the Patriarch. How was this possible? He had no idea. It could only mean that the old man had either left the room or he was no longer around him at all. It quickly dawned on Maestro that the old man couldn't be on the floor and so had to be above him.

Maestro drew his sword, river's edge. The handle was interlaced with bands of thick durable rubber that wrapped around a khaki coloured gripping cloth of fine material. The handle at first seemed like any other blade, but drips of water made the floor wet and within moments a torrent of water was running up and down the blade like the motion of a chainsaw. Maestro could hear the loud and purposeful recital of a silence spell again, as he concentrated his own willpower on the sword he held. The length of it started to adjust, with it growing in size due to the water itself stretching out further. The metal itself could not grow. Maestro knew that the Patriarch must have used a wings of heaven spell to levitate above the greyish black thundercloud and hide out of view so that he could snipe Maestro with a combination silence spell then blast him freely. It would all be over soon, he thought. He cast a lightning bolt spell just as the silencing effect hit him. This time the commanding presence inside his head was too strong. The will of the old man was absolute. He strained to fight it but his own tongue suddenly felt like a lead weight. He had finished the spell in time but did not manage to weave it into an outward attacking bolt. It remained trapped in his hands, where it re-absorbed elsewhere, as a spell like this always would if not unleashed quickly enough – as it was a natural element that of course could only behave as a natural element could.

Maestro fancied that his mountain climbing spectacles would give him the edge at perceiving movement from above him. The bi-focal element on the glass indeed was placed on the upper part of the lens for starters!

Maestro suddenly saw what he was waiting for: the Patriarch's mighty lightning bolt that tore through the cloud from the other side and came rapidly towards him.

Maestro raised river's edge so that its watery point connected with the lightning bolt first. The watery sword had been negatively charged by the failed lightning spell from Maestro before. The bolt that had made contact was positively charged!

The Patriarch stared in disbelief as the lightning erupted and burnt on the surface of the water and in an instant a counter charge from the water's current jumped back through the lightning which led right back into the Patriarch's fingers.

There was a massive electrical cracking sound followed immediately by an explosion.

The Patriarch fell from the sky, through the cloud and hit the floor. Maestro ran over to the supreme wizard lord and placed river's edge to the man's throat. The Patriarch's fingers were black as soot and his hands were burned.

"I concede to you" he said. Maestro sheathed the sword once more. The droplets that had escaped onto the floor quickly made their way in reverse back into the sheath too, just before the sword's hilt locked the opening off.

At once, several attendants appeared and pulled the Patriarch back onto his feet. He stared at Maestro in disbelief stating, "I would not have believed it lest I saw it with my own eyes. You are now a magister, you shall now be known as a Sir or our order."

Maestro smiled and said, "Oh good, that means I can concentrate on some other pursuits next, like getting back to my engineering studies."

"Well, ahh yes" said the Patriarch, a little shakily in his voice, "There is that. Now that you are a magister, you may define what sort of further title you have. There have been magister engineers before, indeed. The final rank for you attain, lord will still be some way off. Your depth of comprehension will still need to grow, so I give you permission for now to study whatever you see fit."

Maestro punched the air in triumph. At last, he thought, at least he had conquered fate's plan. He realised he'd said that last part out loud when the Supreme Lord Patriarch answered, "How do you know that this wasn't the plan all along?"

Maestro gulped at the enormity of such a suggestion. He quickly pushed that down though and asked, "You said you would tell me why I have been treated differently all these years."

The Patriarch sighed, "Indeed, yes I suppose I did. Ah well Maestro. Have you ever heard the stories of supreme wizard lord Wilheim?"

Maestro thought for a moment and then replied, "Ah yes, one of the only humans to actually master high magic."

Magic in its purest form was normally only controllable by the elves. It was called: High magic. Evil wizards and mages would often channel a near variant of high magic called "dhar". This negative form of high magic was the pure stuff of chaos, unrefined, undisciplined and un-metered. All magic in itself originated from the chaos dimensions. Users of dhar were those who wanted the fast track to power. Such magic was near the level of the elves for little effort at all, but it carried a whole host of new dangers as a result as well. Practitioners of these dark arts would often go insane or be subject to a fate far far worse than that!

Humans were not anywhere near gifted enough to use high magic. Their only path to access was dhar, which explained why necromancy and chaos magic was rife amongst mortals who had turned their backs on the Empire and its lawful minded neighbouring countries.

Magic in its purest form was the mass collection of eight different channelled energies that the elves called "qhaysh". Humans would spend their entire short lifetimes just mastering a single element, a single wind of the eight lores. Furthermore, because of the natural restrictions of a human body, the further a wizard studied down the path of a particular school of magic, the less attuned he became to reading the others.

Wilheim, for some reason was the exception to this rule.

Maestro looked a little confused, "Why do I want to know about some old story that was probably made up like most of the others then?"

The Patriarch gasped, "Because Maestro, it was only too true. Not a fable to impress the younger students into joining our order. Not a story to tempt would be students away from the path of hedge wizardry. He was real."

Maestro considered the words, "and how do you know that, Sir?"

"Because Maestro" answered the Patriarch, "Because you are his descendent. You are his blood - albeit thinned down now, of course."

Maestro's jaw fell open.

The master lord continued, "On your mother's side, because of course your father's father hailed from Bretonnia, hence your name."

"My mother…" started Maestro, "she…"

The Patriarch looked grimly at him and clarified, "Your mother did indeed end up in the infirmary, that was no lie. But you were never told the reason why I'm afraid."

Maestro quickly stated, "It was the pressure and disgrace of that that made father stand down from his role as financial advisor to the Emperor…"

"Yes" said the Patriarch, "but her 'insanity' was a result of her bloodline's natural element, gifted affinity with magic."

Maestro looked shocked on a new level with each word the old man spoke as he continued to explain, "Yes, your Mother became gifted with magic. It came on suddenly though and in her older years where her developed adult psyche could not handle the strain. Most are lucky enough to receive the blessing…"

"Or curse" added Maestro grimly.

"Or however you look at it" answered the Patriarch, "at a younger age when their minds are more adaptive to change. Because of course, their entire bodies are constantly changing anyway. Your mother developed a sudden outburst of dhar and that was that. All who went near her were in danger. She was wholly destructive but couldn't help it…"

"And there she died…" added Maestro, his voice full of melancholy.

The Patriarch looked embarrassed at this and looked down and away choosing not to even reply to that remark before continuing, "So you can imagine how the higher powers felt when you developed your magical attunement. Your initial discovery of the power combined with your case file was even enough to spook the Emperor. It is because you are a descendent of Wilheim that you almost have the attunement of high magic about you. It is why you pick up on other wizards' attunements when they are in your vicinity. Your natural blood gives you that much, but because you are a late descendent, the blood is now watered down so much that you will probably never attain high magic like he did. So if you have the capacity for high magic without the gift to actually wield it, what do you think your masters, your teachers feared would happen to you Maestro?"

Maestro replied with a sense of awe and realisation in his voice, "Dhar. I might have succumbed to Tzeentch's will. I…I actually understand now."

"Yes" said the Patriarch, "the less you knew the better, but remaining in the city as you were, was a dangerous course as well, for you at least. It wasn't that we were picking on you, even though you were a lazy little blighter if I do say so myself", the Patriarch coughed and set himself back on the track of his point, "but that remaining uncultured in how to harness, how to control the stronger winds of magic would leave you susceptible to it if it flared up naturally on its own, into the next level, as it did with your mother."

Maestro shook his head from the enormity of everything he was now trying to take in. This was truly life changing for him. Part of him wished he hadn't asked, yet another part was glad he had. A tear formed in his eye, made all the more ridiculous as he still wore his seemingly upside down spectacles. The single tear parted a way through the black soot on his cheek.

"You are naturally talented, Maestro" added the Patriarch, "But unmotivated as well. You have grown under our advisement and are all the better for it. You are a master tactician if ever I did see one. Do you have any more questions?"

Maestro was silent for a moment then replied, "None Sir…"

"Then let's be off with you eh? You are now a master and are deserved of a servant to run you a bath at the very least."

Maestro quietly nodded and left through the now opened door before him. So much had changed this day. He had at last learned who he truly was. It scared him. Who was he again?

Once Maestro was gone and the door had shut again a strange second old man stepped out from behind a pillar. He looked very old indeed but somehow there was a striking likeness between he and the younger wizard who had just departed from the room.

The newcomer said, "Hmmph, I used to look like that did I?"

"Yes, it seems so old friend." answered the Patriarch.

The newcomer added, "No wonder no women liked me."

The Patriarch stated, "Do you forget? You were the one who had a problem with women, not the other way around?"

The Patriarch considered something for a moment and asked, "Why did you come here though? Why did you feel the need to see this one more time?"

The newcomer, resplendent in the robes of the Celestial Order smiled gravely, "I am soon to depart this mortal coil. I have foreseen it. I wanted to relive the one moment that meant most to me."

The Patriarch commented a little more sympathetically than before, "I too am not long for this world. I have less than a year here. It was dangerous though, I don't have to tell you that. If he had seen you, everything, all you were, all you have become would have been put into jeopardy. All certainty would once more have become uncertainty within the time stream."

"Well it worked out all right didn't it" said the robed newcomer as he bit down on an apple before adding, "I'll see you around. Make sure you watch over me."

"So that you won't have to, of course I will" answered the Patriarch.

"Thank you" said the elderly newcomer, "I can go in peace at least."

Meanwhile as Maestro padded down the hallway he muttered quietly to himself, "I wonder who that old bloke was hiding behind that illusion wall spell. Oh well, it's of no consequence to me, not today, nothing is!"

…Not today. Nothing is.


	23. Chapter 23

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle

Chapter 23

The Skaven Attack!

150 years ago:

The Celestial College:

The seer council stared in horror and fascination at what they jointly foresaw would happen next to the group. Surely…surely this would be the death of them – they all agreed. All except one: Seer Magister Viez.

150 years later:

The present:

They had left the cities of Middenheim and then later - Altdorf behind them. They had presented only danger and mayhem. They were starting to feel collectively as if anywhere they might go would be fraught with risk to their safety - that somehow fate was trying to kill them. Little did they realise that in some ways, "fate" was against them. There were after all, powerful forces who were bound by contract of conditional payment of their deaths before they could get what they wanted – namely Morr. Dieter privately wondered if Morr's agents would be seeking them out, to speed up the process of "the contract". He wouldn't have put it past them.

They indeed concluded that fate had been waiting for them in ambush at Middenheim and it was a wonder that no one ended up dead. Then they were drawn back to Altdorf again where more problems had befallen them. But again, they didn't realise that by leaving by a remote route now, by running from fate they were heading into a danger far greater than anything they had faced so far!

It was almost certain that Morr was watching their progress and what was coming. If Shallya was also observing their progress right about now, she would have been putting her hands across her face and saying, "I can't watch."

"Oh crap" started Tobias as he observed the carnage around them. Though he was only meant to be a formal observer to the party, things had changed a little when Maestro had been granted his full magister's licence. Tobias was now present on a semi formal basis, present to record some great deed that the Supreme Lord Patriarch had foreseen to come. His rules of actual party relations engagement had been slackened somewhat now. After all, with each night time that arrived, his thief self had broken all of those rules anyway. He had developed an actual admiration for Maestro now. He couldn't believe that the wizard had come this far in so short a time.

They had taken a coach south from the city and it had ridden them quickly through much of the nearby forest, not far from the forest's edge. Their destination was Nuln, the once capital of the Empire. The place where Rissandrea had been born. It was time for her to visit that place once more. Maestro had agreed to go too, because it meant the tricky matter of him taking on an apprentice wouldn't come about if he wasn't around in the College…

Their driver had received word from military sources that roaming bands of Beastmen had been seen on the roads that led directly south easterly towards Nuln. The driver had therefore decided to press directly south instead and when he had gone suitably far enough off of the orthodox route, he would cut directly east instead. Of course this made him happy as well because it meant the fare would be higher too.

The coach had rolled over a bump in the road which had turned out to be a body of an Empire Soldier. His uniform was too badly torn, his body and armour too disfigured to ascertain the livery's origin. They had ridden on, only to come upon a section of the road that was covered in bodies. The further along the road they went, the more bodies they saw. They could tell from what little was left of the heavily disfigured men, that they were mixed units from a number of different armed companies around the Empire.

Tobias reminded the group that he had heard of some soldiers being posted as a guard on areas of importance even as far south as this. There was always the risk of a regrouped invasion forming and these men were the rearguard in place in case it did. They were out of Middenland now but even Reikland's northern side had become destabilised from the war. In fact, one of the biggest threats to the area was the fearful people. When people were scared they did silly things. They would get paranoid with each other, unable to discern enemy from friend. These soldiers were also dealing with such problems as these.

The coach simply had to stop because the amount of bodies in the way made it impossible to pass. They would now have the unpleasant job of moving them out of the way first. The coach driver Samuel was already regretting accepting a job from the so called "heroes" of Middenheim and Altdorf. He told his manager that it would probably mean trouble for him, seeing as how much trouble they had gotten themselves into during just their short visit alone. The manager had been unsympathetic to Samuel's concerns. He knew that his manager didn't like him anyway. That was probably why he had been assigned the task of transporting this seemingly ill-fated group.

If there had been some sort of Old World transporters union then they might have passed a collective law banning the group from travel. Lucky for them, there wasn't.

"What could have done this I wonder? Gosh I hope we're not in danger" speculated Maestro. Rissandrea was a little disturbed by the wizard's unfeeling tone. It wasn't just this time she considered, Maestro would often react to atrocious things far more casually than she would expect a wizard to. After all, he wasn't used to being up to his elbows in enemy intestines like Tordrad or Dieter were, yet he was so blasé even about things that would surprise the other two. She noticed that Maestro had no reaction to the scared orphans they had met on their way to Middenheim. He had felt nothing of their companions deaths along the way, those such as Father Odo. She had noticed Maestro's lack of emotional regard for so many things, except his own safety. She wondered if he might perhaps have some sociopathic tendencies or an undiagnosed disorder. It wouldn't be too hard to imagine – most wizards had something wrong with them, she had noticed. She could recall at least twice having to lay her hands upon the man's head and recite calming blessings when his spells had backlashed badly on him, like a gust catching a match's flame and burning one's fingers – but on a far greater level, threatening his very sanity perhaps. Then there was his discomfort around women as well…he did indeed have a number of unresolved issues, she determined thoughtfully.

"Perhaps a beastman attack?" wondered Dieter aloud.

Tobias snootily replied, "That is unlikely, Death"

"De'ath!" corrected Dieter angrily, "If you keep calling me that, I'll end up tying your tongue around a tree branch until you say it right."

Rissandrea noticed how Dieter carried his darkness on his sleeve, but the more she tried to think about it, the harder it was for her to concentrate. That bothered her too.

Tobias continued in his snobbish manner, "These people have been eaten right here and now. Beastmen would at least take them to their camp and consume them there." With that the halfling wiped his sweating forehead stressfully knowing he was perhaps close to extreme danger. As always, the halfling in the day time had a good temper for taking threats from Dieter. His night time self was a little more impatient however.

Rissandrea considered Tobias's mental state each night. This perhaps concerned her more than any of the others. She saw it as her duty to get to the bottom of his problem too.

Dieter shrugged, "Perhaps they were starved followers of Khorne who didn't just stop at a blood fix."

Rissandrea formed the mark of Shallya in the air at the mention of 'Khorne'.

Tordrad slightly squinted his left eye and curled his lip on that same side while looking at the state of the bodies around them. His keenly honed battle senses warned him that here had been the site of a great battle. "We are all in great danger standing here, fools." he said in his Kislevite tongue and gave up trying to make them understand.

"Besides" continued Tobias, "you'll notice the bones have not been cracked to get at the marrow as beastmen or orcs would do. Something has feasted, but in a hurry."

Only Tordrad and Dieter did not hold their noses from the stench of decay around them. The coach driver went as far as to vomit for a third time, just to attest to the horrific surroundings that faced them.

Fourteen minutes later, they had moved all of the bodies aside. The coach driver rode on with a handkerchief still firmly across his face like a bandit might were he to rob this very coach.

They continued on the road, still passing bodies as they went but they were more thinly placed around them. In some cases they were thinly spaced because their limbs were apart from the torsos, but still they all had one visual factor in common – they had all been grossly mutilated in some way. Many were stripped to the bone.

Within seconds the road took a steep uphill slant. They could see the presence of more bodies at the top and the fearful feeling inside them, the terrible consideration of dread at how bad a mistake coming this way had been finally dawned on all of them.

A live soldier dragged himself to the top of the hill from the far side. His legs were missing from the knee down on his right and from the upper thigh on his left. He began rolling downhill. Maestro noted that it seemed almost comical, like the various slapstick plays he had seen in his youth but decided that he had better not say so publicly.

The coach halted at the bottom of the hill so as to not run him over.

As the party hurriedly got out, ready to rush towards him in a gesture of futility, the grievously wounded man reached a desperate bloodied hand towards them, bringing up red foam from his mouth as he did so then collapsed completely, face down.

Rissandrea's face turned to stone - a permanent frown of mental grieving as if he had been a relation to her. At that moment in time, Tobias reckoned that she looked every bit like the mournful statues of Shallya herself. The truth was that those of the Shallyan order were more outward with their feelings; they were more emotional over the suffering of innocents.

As Rissandrea put her two palms to the man's chest Dieter asked, "Can you save him?"

Rissandrea responded, "Were I to revive him somehow he would only suffer a few moments more before dying again, perhaps more painfully this time" Her face contorted in sorrow. It worsened as Dieter spoke, "His pain is of little importance. He can tell us what happened here."

Rissandrea looked at Dieter in horror, momentarily her eyes regarded him as if he were the Everchosen of chaos standing in front of her at that moment in time, or perhaps some sort of terrible daemon. As her mind started to race, his smile somehow then had a calming effect on her and she started to forget how that original thought had come about. She thought more logically about it for a moment and replied when Dieter impatiently gestured with his hand for a required answer.

Rissandrea stated, "He has passed too far through the gates of death. For me to interfere now would be an affront to Morr himself. I would not seek to upset the higher powers."

Dieter's face flushed with embarrassment at this comment. Relax he told himself, she doesn't know what you've done, but he let the issue go as it was with a respectful bow of his head.

Ulger smelled a patch of blood on the ground and lapped at it wistfully. Tobias looked at the dog and thought to himself how there seemed to be something wrong with it - some darkness about it somehow.

As the group reached the top of the hill on foot and the coach driver staggered along a few paces behind them huffing and puffing as he went, they saw a new carnage that made the previous find look tame. Before them now was the site of the true battle it seemed. This time there were so many bodies in the way that stretched further up the road that trying to clear the blockage might keep them here until nightfall. As the coach driver Samuel reached the top of the hill beside them, he stared for a second, his eyes bulged and he gagged, raising a finger to the others to indicate that his vomit had been a false alarm, that he was on top of the situation. Suddenly he threw up.

Maestro stepped his foot out of the contents of the man's stomach and said, "Well that's charming." He was seemingly oblivious to his surroundings.

These bodies too were in a state of disarray, being mutilated like the others down the hill..

Dieter frowned and spoke cold and clinically, "The corpses have not been here for long. The blood is not dry everywhere yet. It looks like some wild creatures have eaten them." Tobias replied, "But Death, no pack of animals would ever be large enough to consume so much, so widespread in so little time."

Dieter snarled, "It's De'ath you pompous fool and no it couldn't have been a normal pack of animals, such as wolves. But I can tell you this much. The beastmen were indeed here."

Dieter pointed at a nearby corpse. There they saw a dead beastman. As their view went wider, they saw more of the foul chaos children, littering the streets but most them had died in the fields of barley that faced onto the road.

"So there has been a battle between the two" said Maestro.

"Indeed" replied Dieter, "and the beastmen were heavily outnumbered. But the beastmen did not eat these men. Look."

Dieter had walked over to a beastman corpse and pointed to it. As they got closer they saw that it too had been eaten similarly.

Rissandrea had never been surrounded by so much death. She stared in dismay at the loss of life, considering the pain and suffering wrought here.

Maestro's expression became panicked, "If something has killed or eaten them both then you can guarantee we would fit the bill for a tasty snack."

Tobias jokingly remarked, "Yes and if they ate you Maestro, your staff would make a handy toothpick for afterwards."

Maestro glared at the halfling, "Oh really? Well at least they wouldn't be drawing for the shortest straw of who gets to eat me, unlike you."

Tobias spluttered, "I'll have you know I have lots of meat on me! I eat good food and the fat would be tasty I…" then he commented, "…and why are we arguing about **this**?"

Tordrad had gotten the gist of the conversation and commented in his native tongue, "Over my dead body will they eat you, wizard." Then Tordrad realised what he had said and felt disgusted with himself. It depressed him to have to say that. He commented as an after thought, "But they can eat halfling all they want. I might eat him as snack yet! He so small. But perhaps there be good fight for me soon! Yes?"

Maestro and Tobias simply stared at Tordrad as they saw him mutter something in Kislevian, laugh and take a swig of vodka. Tobias reckoned that Tordrad was definitely an alcoholic. Maestro smiled politely and said, "Yes Tordrad, I do indeed deem this area too unsafe to remain in any longer. Whatever did this might return."

"We can't continue in me coach though guv" said Samuel. He looked pathetic with a little vomit on his collar, "it'd never get over all the bodies. The only way round is through the field and as ye can plainly see it's filled with beastmen bodies. We'd end up losing a wheel on a horn or something."

Rissandrea had finally finished administering prayers for the bodies around her. She frowned with exhaustion and said, "As much as it feels inadvisable, I think we need to move onwards, on foot and quickly at that."

So it was decided. Together they walked down the pathway, keeping just inside the forest so they could take cover by the massive trees here if need be.

Dieter stretched his mind out, as if connecting with the land itself. Something aethyric blazed inside him and suddenly he could feel vibration through the soles of his feet. He didn't even know how because he had cast no spell, knowingly. Through the vibrations he could feel the party that walked beside him, yet there was something else. Further back – much further back behind them were lots of vibrations. He recognized the vibrations of two feet of a person walking, for the group with him set the norm, yet something felt different about the vibrations he felt some way away. He was sensing two feet in a normal stepping formation, yet there was an extra property connecting with the ground too, a sort of banging scraping. Perhaps a body being dragged behind someone, he thought. This feeling was multiplied by many however. He also perceived the vibrations of four feet too. He remained quiet about all of this.

Soon they could smell fire. The further south they went the stronger it became. They soon determined that its source lay somewhere deeper into the forest but not far. They came to a decision to head in and check it out. They would only look. Dieter and Ulger took the frontal position and walked far ahead of the others as he scouted, almost out of sight.

After eight minutes of walking they could see he had stopped and crouched beside some shrubbery to view something. They were finally catching up when he waved them to him and he stepped onwards confidently. As the others emerged they saw a hamlet, a tiny area of three houses surrounded by trees. Tobias commented aloud that there was no such place on the map. Rissandrea put forward that perhaps the map makers didn't feel three houses important enough to list. "In theory then" said Maestro, "if this place doesn't officially exist it should be safe."

"Hah" said Dieter sardonically as he nodded towards the scene unfolding ahead in the forest clearing that served as the hamlet's village square. In the square, a burning pyre had been prepared and four men were harassing a young woman. They had encircled her, leaving her no way of escape. They laughed amongst themselves at her torment.

Maestro commented, "Unbelievable, what is it with these people? Keep trying to burn everyone?" But his tone didn't indicate that he wanted to try and stop it. Everyone assumed he did though and they moved forwards. Maestro didn't want to be left behind so he pressed on as well.

The four men and the young woman were on a raised stone square shaped platform that had two sets of steps that ran a short way up to it.

Maestro had appeared behind one of the men, looking over his shoulder with interest. "Gosh" he started, "is this a private meeting or is anyone invited? Where's the buffet?"

The men mostly ignored Maestro except for one who answered him, "We are going to burn this witch. We thought she was one of us, normal and decent, but then she changed. Then she became a magical freak. We can't leave her to become a witch."

Seeing Maestro's surprise the man added, "It's for all of our sakes, it's a matter of public safety."

Dieter stepped forward suddenly and barged in between the men, "You're damned right it's a matter of public safety. If you try and burn that young woman none of you will be safe…understand?"

The men paused at this but still kept their composure, even when they spotted the rest of the party walking up the steps. Tordrad's visor was still down so they missed out on the expression on his face, for he recognized an element of his own people in the girl who he estimated to be around seventeen. Perhaps she is Kislevian, he wondered.

Maestro focused on his witchsight and was able to see the magical aura around the young girl. By all accounts her powers had just broken out and these men were persecuting her. Something seemed different about the energies around her body however, something that Maestro had never seen before. Ice! It looked just like small icicles falling off of her body.

Rissandrea stepped forward and spoke, "Gentlemen, though you are deprived of the learning and laws of the big cities, you must try to comprehend – those who are found to be magically gifted are shown the way into the colleges of magic. They are given a chance to avoid hedge wizardry and serve the Empire."

"Indeed" butted in Tobias, "As was authorized by the elves two centuries ago in the time of Emperor Magnus the Pious. They allowed humans to practice magic in safer ways, where colleges were founded, as they mentored the Empire's fledgling years of a new age."

"Too man fancy filled words" said one man.

"Bah, we don't care what any scrawny elves said" boasted another of the men, "that load of stuck up tight lipped plonkers. Look, this ain't the city."

Maestro bit his lip to stop himself agreeing with them on their last point about the elves…It was fine he reasoned, the elves felt the same way about him too.

Tordrad flexed his fingers and limbered his body up for a fight. Even this did not put the men off.

Rissandrea came back at them, "The Empire military is having to divert previous forces to policing the rural areas just so that this sort of thing doesn't happen. What are they wasting their resources for if you would simply take the law into your own hands?"

One of the men seemed persuaded by this; it was clear on his face but not the others.

Maestro looked carefully at the young girl and squinted one eye as he asked, "You don't have a particular love of engineering do you?"

The young lady looked at him confused. Maestro elaborated, "You know, spanners, wrenches, oil, gunpowder, wires, flux, cogs, things exploding and nearly blowing your eyebrows off - this sort of thing?"

The girl looked at him in a shocked manner, momentarily considering the wizard more warily than the men who were threatening her, then quickly shook her head to indicate no.

"Ah good" answered Maestro, "Very good. Well in that case young lady, I am to see you are trained by the colleges of magic!" Maestro waved a finger in an upwards spiral into the air, full of self importance. Tobias shook his head in consideration of Maestro's foolish reasoning for his point. Maestro was used to seeing people do this so paid it no mind – he simply continued, "I am now a master wizard of my order. I have the power to introduce you to the collegiate. I have the power to train you myself even!"

The men became interested in Maestro at last, looking him from toe to head as if looking at him for the first time. One said, "Ah, so you're a no good trouble making wizard are you? I can believe it. You look the part."

"Thank you" replied Maestro.

Tobias rolled his eyes at how right the men's description actually was, even though they were trying to be offensive.

"Not much of one though" came another of the men, "he don't look like much."

"True enough" agreed another of the men, "after we've done with this girl, you'll be next on the pyre if you don't leave, wizard!"

The men laughed and scoffed at the skinny frame of the man standing in front of them.

A look of stern concentration came across Maestro's face. The winds of magic pulled and swirled around him like a vortex of power. Winds began to kick up around the men, seemingly concentrated around the wizard. Quickly the wind increased in strength, blowing Maestro's robes and hair about magnificently. The men reckoned they could see Maestro begin to grow in size somehow. In actual fact he was slightly levitated off the ground.

The men saw Maestro's angered eyes alive with electricity running through them, with a stare that threatened to tear them apart. At last, with this demonstration of great power and seasoned control noted Tobias, the men began to back away from the girl. The young lady herself even turned and considered moving away from the wizard. She fancied that he looked like he could explode with energy at any moment, but she held her ground, trembling a little as Maestro's clenched teeth showed.

A calming but small hand rested upon the wizard's arm. It was Tobias. Where the halfling made contact, the magical build up in that exact spot subsided. Maestro began to calm down at the reassuring touch and look in Tobias's eyes.

The men stared at Maestro then over his shoulder at the others in the party. Dieter's eyes were most disturbing to look at. His pupils were dilated and his sickening sneer spoke of cruelty they could never imagine. Rissandrea too could feel it and the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand on end.

Rissandrea put a hand out and gestured for the young girl to come to her. She did as requested and stood by Rissandrea's side.

An excited chittering sound grabbed all of their attentions. As they all looked out towards a section of forest on the outskirts of the hamlet, swarms of rats swept forward like a purpose driven wave of brown water along the ground. Their red eyes were fixed as they swept towards their goal so quickly that they tripped over each other along the way. Everyone gasped in horror at the sight of thousands of rats together coming at them.

Suddenly more squeaking gave away rats emerging from the other side of the hamlet, cutting off any chance of retreat that way.

As the rats neared, the men began running as a terrible shrill squeaking sound gave away a new threat – that of a skaven packmaster leading six gigantic rats, unnaturally larger than rats had any right to be – and they were heading straight towards those assembled in the hamlet.

As the villagers ran, Rissandrea held the young women in place as rats swarmed over two of them, who fell to their knees screaming from multitudes of tiny bites all across their bodies. The shrill crack of the thirteen tailed packmaster's whip each section ending in warpstone reminded everyone else of the true danger coming up. The other two men ran for all they were worth and went back into their houses. The sound of clicking locks and sliding bolts across doors confirmed that the adventurers were going to be getting no help from them.

Tordrad raised his newly acquired gun upon the resting place within his poleaxe and opened fire. A great chunk of flesh tore out of one giant rat which fell to its knees. Two of the other rats turned to feast on it but the packmaster's whip decisively sounded once more, deterring them from that action. Tordrad took aim and fired again.

From behind, where the first swarm of rats had appeared came a disheartening sight: ten skaven slaves reluctantly appeared from the forest, backed up by five clan rats. The two were distinguishable based on their attire. The slaves were smaller and were less well equipped than the clan rats. A clan leader led the procession, inciting violence in his troops.

The party's faces were shocked. That expression then gave way to fear. Even Tordrad would have admitted feeling fear. If he could have spoken Reikspiel though, he would have told them that the true mark of a man is not to be fearless, but to not let it sway you into retreat.

With that, another shot rang out, felling one more of the giant rats.

The group of rats were now close enough to see the features of the packmaster more clearly. Rissandrea took her holy blessed pistol out, an item that once belonged to a witch hunter of some renown, rested it on her horizontally placed forearm and lined up a shot. She held her breath and squeezed the trigger gently so as to not affect her aim. A bullet shot out of the gun with a huge glowing white tail behind it, like a comet. It struck the packmaster in the throat and he collapsed amongst his giant rats who turned and feasted on their tormentor, now freed from the shackles of his control.

The group still stood upon the raised area. Dieter shouted, "This platform will give us an advantage over them."

"So you do mean to fight them then Death?" asked Tobias fearfully.

Dieter gritted his teeth hatefully at the halfling and answered, "We already are, you cowardly piece of crap. If I hear anymore from you, I'll use you as bait for the next wave."

Maestro channelled a dart spell and fired it at the skaven. It hit one of them but still they kept coming. Maestro decided that this was probably not the best time to start conserving his powers, especially as he had spotted the new threat coming from the distant tree line…

"Next wave?" asked Tobias, his voice was shaking a little.

Dieter pointed at the distant entrance to the area where yet more skaven were incoming. This time there was ten clanrats and some new types of rat men that they hadn't seen here yet. Amongst the rabble were five stormvermin. These were the warrior breed of the rat people, naturally black of fur and better armoured than the others. They each carried a long pole arm. Also, creeping along carefully they could see five more skaven dressed all in black wearing hooded cloaks. They recognized them as assassins, like the one they had met in Middenheim's under passages recently.

Rissandrea looked at the others in desperation and then threw that feeling aside, deciding to sight up for another shot instead. She would serve her goddess until the end, she thought.

Tobias loaded a bolt into his crossbow and fired it at the closest group of skaven. One of the foul rat men fell. The Halfling held an expression of hopelessness on his face as he glanced at the other group getting ever closer. Tordrad's gun had rang out several more times, but the skaven were not stopping. The clan leader gave a shrill cry, louder and higher in pitch than any of the party had thought possible from skaven lungs.

"Oh that's wonderful" started Dieter, "he's just warned the others".

"You mean to say you believe this is only the scouting party?" came Maestro reply.

"I do indeed" answered Dieter, "don't worry, you'll see the main force soon enough."

It all made sense now thought Rissandrea, the beastmen and humans had been gnawed on, eaten. It had to have been the rats, those of four legs and those of two.

Dieter had suspected as much as well, again not sharing this information with the group at the time. He suspected that the skaven will have ambushed the loser of a fight between the other two forces and plunged through them while they were tired and disorganized.

"An army…" said Maestro.

"Well perhaps not an entire army" answered Tobias, "reports had been placed that skaven presence were fighting with the empire a short way away. Perhaps this is only a depleted army."

"Oh well that's alright then isn't it?" came Maestro's reply. The others couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not as he blasted an oncoming skaven with a bolt of lightning.

Dieter waited, having no ranged attacks of his own, he simply paced back and forth atop the raised areas, muttering to himself every now and then. Rissandrea noted that it almost sounded like he was trying to reason with himself in some way.

As the first group of skaven got to them, they were thinned out in numbers from the many ranged attacks. Ulger growled defensively as Dieter patted the great doberman to reassure it. Tordrad fired one more shot at point blank range straight into the face of the clan leader amongst them, tearing its brain half out of its skull. The other skaven gasped fearfully as Tordrad ran forwards, smacked another clanrat to the mouth with the butt of his gun. Its teeth shattered as the Kislevian armoured tank of a man quickly swung the gun back into its holster and drew his great axe. In its drawing, Tordrad flowed it outwards into an attack which gutted another of the rat men. The Kislevite stepped into the group, tearing at them as he went.

Rissandrea granted her allies with blessings of Shallya, to embrace them with courage and inner strength, to bless them with enlightenment of thought so that they might react as fast as was possible for them. She hoped it would help as she struck a skaven to the chest with her quarterstaff, knocking it back down the steps. Dieter too plunged into the skaven, now with his beastman derived gauntlet on, he attacked assertively. It was paying off. He seemed so happy with the blood of his enemies across his face. Tordrad kept advancing. With each rat man he cut down, he stepped forward into another. Tobias continued to fire crossbow bolts. One skaven had reached the top of the steps at last and the halfling had been forced to thrust the bolt he was holding, straight into the creature's face. As he withdrew the bolt, it had an eyeball and some flesh attached to it. Tobias grimaced and loaded it into the crossbow anyway, which he fired at the second group of skaven who were almost upon them. The shot whistled forwards cutting the air with a strange sound as it pierced the armour of a stormvermin. It fell to one knee with bits of the other dead skaven's body hanging from the bolt.

At last the stormvermin were upon Tordrad. He was up ahead all on his own. As the stormvermin attacked him, their hits clanged harmlessly against his thick armour plating. Ulger was now busy biting swarms of rats that surrounded him and jumped towards his neck. His body was starting to bleed with bites, for he was more susceptible being lower down as he was.

The young woman finally gathered her nerve and started to attack the rat men too. Tobias noticed that she was firing icicles from her finger tips. Though the magical attacks were not killing them in one shot, they certainly slowed them.

Maestro gave a small lightning jolt into the area of the biggest rodent swarm, which fried a lot of the rats at once. This made most of them run away from the source of that damage, which they recognized as being primal energy. No creature would stay out in a thunder storm after all.

Some of the others had their work cut out for them, being forced to stomp on rats so that they didn't get distracted from the coming threat ahead.

Tordrad's huge battle cry made the skaven reluctant to attack; "Do Tor!" came the call from the Kislevian, who fought savagely. Still the stormvermin's best attacks could not pierce his armour. The assassins jumped in and tried their luck. Their attacks too were harmlessly pinging off of the man who began cutting them down as well.

As one assassin attacked, Tordrad kicked the body of a dead stormvermin across the ground at it, tripping it up. Skaven were far smaller than humans but even so, this was a show of great strength from the man. He then brought his metal clad boot down upon the prone black garbed rat man, crushing its skull.

Though outnumbered, the group fought back skilfully, engaging the remaining skaven at close quarters and pulling into a circle around Tordrad to take the beatings off of him.

Eventually, much quicker than they thought possible, the attackers were all dead. The group collectively had become hardened to combats far worse than this. Even the assassins were able to have little effect in their attacks, because it was a fair fight, as their clan rat brethren fell around them plus they had not gotten the jump on the party – who instead were engaging them face to face. A terrible situation for a skaven to be in!

Two skaven desperately ran to get away. Tobias reacted quickly grabbing the weapon closest at hand as he swung a stone from his sling. It leapt into the air and seemingly disappeared into the sky, swallowed up by the clouds on the horizon. But then it must have dropped, because the intended target was hit in the head and fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Tordrad casually loaded his gun once more, taking his time as he pushed the powder laden shot deep into the barrel. Maestro stared in surprise at Tordrad's casual manner. He obviously intended to fire upon the skaven but it was running away at a great rate. Soon it would be out of range and away to warn any others that might be present.

Tordrad took aim and pulled the trigger. The rat man stopped suddenly, as if frozen to the spot then fell over sideways.

The others looked at Tordrad in marvel. Rissandrea examined him and saw his armour had been dented and tested in several places yet not pierced. When the Kislevian pulled a section of the plating away however, it was clear to see that he had suffered terrible bruising, in some places bleeding under the skin. Still he retained a grim smile and the fixed stare of his eyes were keen below his impressive thick eyebrows.

"Granted it was a bit more than just a mere scouting force" started Dieter aloud to the group as a whole.

They all stared at him sullenly.

Rissandrea looked around and saw no one else except Ulger had been hurt, so she laid her hands upon the great dog and let the healing powers that formed inside her do their job. She and the others had noticed her skills in this regard increasing lately.

Maestro glanced worriedly at the young woman. She didn't take it personally. Just as well really because Maestro was that way with all members of the opposite sex.

Her face held recognizable traits of common Empire folk, yet her pale skin, slightly wider face shape and those striking blue eyes spoke of sterner northern roots of heritage.

Tobias looked to the young woman, "My young lady, it is obviously too unsafe for you to remain here. We should escort you away from this place with haste."

"Yes…" came the young woman's reluctant reply, with sadness sitting around the border of her words.

With the threat of potential harm to the young lady having passed, Dieter was now visibly uninterested in hearing anything else about her. He simply got down onto the ground and laid his ear flat against the dusty dirt track they stood on, listening for anything else.

"I won't be able to train you though" said Maestro suddenly, as if in panic. The young lady noticed that the wizard would not look her in the eye as he spoke, "Before when I said I could, I literally only meant to explain that I am a master and can recognize that you need training…from someone else…"

Tobias looked at Maestro, seeing him stuttering over himself surrounded by half cocked incomplete thoughts. I wonder if he'll always be this way, Tobias pondered.

"Do you have a name?" asked Tobias.

The girl looked down at him, almost quizzically at first, as if he had spoken a different language. "…Anastasia" came her reply.

Tordrad's eyes widened with confirmation as he spoke in his native tongue, "Ah, a good royal name is this. Makes me remember home to look at you."

"Thankyou" came the young lady's reply in Kislevian, "Though I suspect I would not hold a candle to the Tsarina's beauty and power."

Tordrad was thoroughly taken aback at this. Since leaving his homeland, he had heard no one else speak his language. He had been alone, internally for so long. This could be a refreshing change he thought…or it could make him miss home again, in a way that even the vodka might not cure. He was always alright as long as he wasn't thinking about it.

The young woman felt at ease with Tordrad and continued to talk openly to him, "My father, he was from Kislev."

Tordrad nodded in understanding, a smile wide upon his face as she continued, "He was disgraced, a soldier in the army, kicked out for misconduct. Made a new life here. He said he was lucky to find my mother, or else he might not have been able to go on living."

Tordrad became uncomfortable at these words. He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and his skin cringed at this topic. He then considered who he had in the Empire, who gave his life purpose to 'go on' as the girl had put it. He looked at Maestro who was busily trying to swat a fly away from a plum he had removed from his robes, the wizard ducking and shouting threats of imminent lightning bolts at the fly who just wouldn't give up trying to get at the overly ripe fruit. Tordrad shook his head and wondered where it had all gone wrong.

Suddenly a nearby house top floor window opened. One of the men who had been outside with them poked his head out and looked around at the carnage before asking, "So it's over is it?"

"No thanks to you!" came Maestro's angry reply, "And if anymore come I've a bloody good mind to blow the locks off your front door and see what you do then."

Dieter stood up suddenly, a look of concern on his face. The others saw it and didn't like it one bit.

The man in the window had seen something off in the distance, from his great vantage point, panicked and shot back inside pulling the window closed with great haste just as a unit of ten stormvermin appeared out of the tree line once more, halberds propped up on their shoulders in a marching position.

Anastasia shrieked in fear. Tordrad glared at them as he re-affixed his armour plating back into place. Maestro rolled his eyes in what at first glance might have seemed like an easy going reaction of "here we go again", yet it was in fearful disbelief that the nightmare was indeed not over.

Rissandrea could not draw her eyes from the corpses of the two men, still being devoured by rats on the ground. She considered whether they deserved to have their souls consecrated by holy prayer, after what they were planning to do to Anastasia. She then fought that momentary feeling away, knowing that her order believed everyone deserved respect in death, that every soul was sacred.

Dieter asked Rissandrea, "Is Ulger alright to fight?"

Rissandrea looked at the dog with its tongue out panting and suggested, "He needs rest."

Dieter replied, "No chance of that, lots of them coming in. I felt the vibrations."

Tobias complained, "We should have left while we had the chance."

Dieter responded, "No chance of that either, we would have run into them anyway, I feel them coming from everywhere – and we might not have had such a favourable positioning as this, somewhere out there."

The others looked at Dieter momentarily as if he must surely hold some hidden secrets or powers that they didn't know about, then turned their attention back to the oncoming skaven forces, appearing from the undergrowth in three places at once.

Still some distance away but closing fast, the Skaven forces came on en-masse this time. The group's ranged shots did little to the enemy numbers from long range. They did not panic nor delay for even a moment.

Suddenly, a strange puff of smoke upon the raised platform they stood upon got their attention. One of the black hooded assassins had appeared out of nowhere and had his blades aimed for what he considered to be the least armed and weakest of the group: Rissandrea.

Tordrad saw this and sped forwards into a lunge which carried hard into the side of the devious killer rat-man, who judged his incoming foes trajectory well and jumped over the blade itself. Though Tordrad's brute strength still lifted the killer along the ground and away from the woman, whose concentration was elsewhere anyway, focusing on keeping holy blessings freshly committed to this site of battle.

The assassin backflipped away from the Kislevite and as he did so he landed a kick into the taller man's jaw.

Tordrad spat blood onto the ground and roared in challenge, rushing out to meet the Skaven as it retreated.

Maestro's concern wasn't the assassin itself, but the spell which had brought the foul creature to them. It had been a teleportation spell that had carried it here and that could indicate one very serious threat was approaching: A grey seer.

He had no way of seeing where it was yet, as skaven leaders always led from the rear, a place of pride and honour. To be sneaky and expect others to die instead of you was one of the greatest leadership traits that could be considered in a potential governing warlord.

The rest of the skaven were still some way off but what concerned Tobias as he watched was Tordrad's hot headed attack. He was lunging and missing as the crafty assassin kept flipping and backing away from the man, drawing him further away from his friends. Tobias aimed his crossbow to try and line up a shot with the assassin, but Tordrad's bulk kept obstructing the view. There was a chance he would hit the Kislevite if he fired. He cursed quietly and tripled that curse when two more of the devious assassins appeared as if from out of nowhere, surrounding Tordrad on three sides at once. The eshin triad was complete and focused together on one target. Tordrad realised too late that situation he was now in. He was too far from Rissandrea for her protective blessings to be of any good and too far from his allies for anyone to help him fend the assassins off. He fought defensively as best as he could, but that wouldn't be enough to hold out for long. He figured he perhaps had only mere moments left to live. Already a number of blows from the assassin's throwing stars had connected. They were softening him up from three directions at once. He was lucky that these weapons weren't poisoned, but the blades and claws they wielded left him in no doubt of poison being present, as they dripped with a luminous green substance.

Tordrad's blood dripped to the ground from several wounds. One across his forehead was bleeding across his eye. As the crimson life force poured out of his body, Dieter who had been watching likened it to losing his own. After all, were Tordrad to die, it would mean he too was closer to the end – closer to Morr's eternal imprisonment. That was not acceptable!

Dieter's panic at this thought, made him realise how small, how human he still was. There was something that could still frighten him. Regardless, he let those emotions run wild and the winds of aethyr gathered about him. He hadn't cast this spell in while because it was dangerous…it would mean him coming closer to the other…But there was nothing else left but that choice. With his willpower, he tore open a brief gateway through reality and stepped through it. On the other side, he half slid, half walked through a sepia toned sub-domain that resembled the real world, except that spirits were also present and visible. It was a dangerous place for him to tread, closer to the daemonic realm than the physical dimension was. This was a place known as 'The Hedge'.

As he moved through time here, long moments or minutes could pass while in the real world perhaps only a second or two will have gone by. Dieter raced as fast as he could towards Tordrad, who was moving in a strange blur of slow motion to avoid numerous incoming attacks from the Skaven. Some were beginning to connect, slashing into his thick plate armour, which was for now providing enough protection.

Dieter was getting close. He knew that he would have very little physical manipulation over events in the real world from here. He would only have the time to rescue Tordrad. He reached both hands out of the hedge reality and clasped Tordrad.

At the same moment in the physical realm, the eshin assassins jumped backwards in fright, seeing a shimmering disturbance then two hands reach out of thin air. A terrible magic power was at play, similar in feeling to that which they had witnessed from their greatest mages – the grey seers. At once, the three of them tensed their glands, as if to squirt the musk of fear – not that they could of course, because eshin assassins would have their glands removed, so that no scent would betray them to their would be targets. Skaven had a much better sense of smell than humans and given that most of their targets were indeed skaven this was important.

Just as Dieter grasped Tordrad tightly with both hands, a presence and resonating vibration that resembled a voice came from behind him, "You've left yourself open to me brother. It's my turn now."

Dieter screamed as the dark silhouette like person stepped into him and absorbed into his body. The spirit looked very much like Dieter – and as it entered the would be doctor's body, his own body altered too. His eyes became black and his skin looked strange, like a translucent shadow that showed his real skin underneath it.

The now possessed Dieter pulled Tordrad backwards into the Hedge, with a supernatural strength far beyond that of the Kislevite man. There he moved quickly with Tordrad backwards through the hedge, floating back to the raised platform the others waited on.

In the space of just a couple of seconds, a blink of an eye Tobias had seen Dieter disappear from the spot he had been standing on, reach Tordrad in a haze of darkness, snatch him away from the clutches of the skaven assassins about him and then re-appear close by. The strain of this and poisoned globes of glass that had shattered near – thrown by despicable skaven wearing breathing apparatus to keep themselves from harm was too much for the halfling, who passed out. The last thing he saw was Dieter going crazy, tearing rat-men apart with his bare hands – then all was darkness…

As Tobias came around, the sounds of fighting alerted him at once that he would still be in danger. He found this odd as he expected to be dead: Being dead of course meant you were in no danger…As his eyes opened, Dieter had returned to normal, surrounded by many more skaven corpses than there had been.

Tordrad was fighting back to back with the trainee doctor, both wielding their melee weapons once again.

As Tobias pulled himself to his feet once more, he saw that the skaven had made it to the raised platform all around them. Huge areas of flame burnt and licked the ground here and there making the halfling wonder what had caused that. The question was about to be answered.

Dieter shouted to Maestro, "I see a new target of opportunity. Like before, ready?"

Maestro shouted, Give me a moment." The wizard put a future sight enchantment upon himself and ran to the edge of the platform trying to find the target that Dieter's finger was pointing at. His future sight, protected him from the lunges from those few skaven that had made it onto the platform and the ranged attacks aimed at the group from afar, by giving him minor insight into what would happen were he to step in a particular direction at any given time. He of course would have to trust that his second reasoned choice would be the right one, because a second new warning might not come in time in line with his new decision. Furthermore, there was the intense psychological strain such a spell would be the imbued person under, for they would often repetitively witness their own demise coming from the fate of their first choice of action. Maestro of course wasn't your normal psyche anyway, so this protected him from certain problems that might befall a…different person.

Maestro spotted the target Dieter had referred to. It was one of the skaven weapon teams they had brought with them. Once the first skaven had died to the group, the grey seer commanding them had decided to bring the entire army to destroy the "pest" as he saw it – as of course he would be able to do, outnumbering them so greatly. What they hadn't banked on though, was the group's teamwork, talent and determination to win. Maestro and Dieter had already pulled this trick on several large groups of the skaven, incinerating loads at once and making them scatter into smaller controllable packs that had either wandered towards the group and died quickly or ran away in disorder. This time, the target was not an entire group of the rat men. It was a two man weapon team carrying a warpfire thrower. They had seen one of these make it the platform earlier and it had opened fire with its luminous green burning flame. Luckily though, Rissandrea had been able to uppercut her staff to the nozzle where the flames shot, sending the gout of burning would-be death up into the air above their heads. It had still rained down some smouldering, painful pieces upon their heads, but that had been better than being melted in seconds! The Shallyan devotee had then crushed her staff into the pipe that fed the weapon, connected to a massive fuel pack carried by the skaven behind. The flow of fuel blocked, the weapon stuttered and backfired, smoking terribly. The skaven had understandably abandoned the pack and ran away, and there it still lay upon the ground of the platform, unexploded and lightly smoking.

This time Maestro would show the skaven the error of their ways, bringing something so dangerous and flammable into battle. He concentrated his celestial magic and the air started kicking up. This focused downwards, onto the weapon team that strode confidently beside a large unit of clanrats. As the warpfire thrower came into range, the winds increased into a swirling vortex upon them. Their enemies on the platform were now in range for their burning death. The lead skaven at the front pulled the trigger, but as the flames shot out, they hit the swirling unnatural winds and spiralled into several luminous flaming green tails that swirled and dissipated before they could reach the group.

"Part one done!" shouted Maestro above the din of battle around them.

"Part two coming up!" replied Dieter, as he quickly moved to the platform's edge with a bottle of pure medicinal alcohol in his hands. It had a raggedly torn off piece of cloth stuck in the top, soaking in the substance inside. Dieter concentrated a very small degree of fire by way of spell, through his palm and into the top of the cloth, setting it alight. He then threw the "molatov cocktail" at the weapon team. It struck the swirling wind and smashed against the front skaven. Within a moment, all hell seemed to break loose. An explosion of absolute ground shaking magnificence erupted from the spot where the warpfire throwers had been. The explosion tore into the unit next to them and felled two thirds of them from contact. Maestro's winds were just enough to keep the oxygen coming in to keep the flames lit as he moved the winds over and across the unit of now running clanrats.

Together the two of them had pulled this trick a few times, but now they weren't going to be able to get away with it anymore, Maestro knew, as he at last saw the culprit for the magical spells he had seen earlier appearing through the unit of stormvermin closing on them.

Grey Seer Snoutskar was unimpressed at the dismal performance from the army he had procured from the nearby Under-Altdorf's council. Surely an army of skaven wouldn't let a simple handful of humans (and one halfling) disrupt them from obtaining the chunks of meteorite warpstone that had recently landed nearby? It had been a simple recovery job. Now he was about to lose most of the army and this was unacceptable! There wouldn't be enough hands to carry the pieces of warpstone back into the dens in time. What if other humans came and found it? Things would get messy and complicated for sure. More troops would be needed and the council would blame him! What insufferable ingratitude it would be! No, he reasoned, this had to be finished now – and he was the only one amongst this force with the strength to do it.

A mass of green lightning crackled onto the platform and began expanding. The grey seer meant to drive them down amongst the skaven below where they would become vulnerable to his underlings. As the sphere of green energy expanded, forcing the group to step further towards the edge of the area, Maestro stared with determination. Because this was a magical spell, he felt a sense of responsibility to have to stop it. He readied river's edge from its scabbard and willed the water within it to expand at convulse in preparedness. The wizard himself was a user of the celestial elements. Lightning was his forte! He knew that this particular lightning spell didn't have an infinite degree of energy. It wasn't being fed in a constant stream from the caster. He knew that if he could only force the energy in the spell to speed up its consumption process it would burn out quickly. The others thought him mad when he began walking towards the expanding lightning energy. This was indeed an action very unlike him indeed, but this time he was confident in his knowledge that he would be right…he hoped.

Maestro readied himself against the stinging aethyr that closed towards him. He readied his weapon. When the lightning was close enough at last, he lunged at full stretch, wincing his eyes shut against the crackling stings from the small escaping lightning edges – and the watery blade penetrated the orb with a massive hissing burning wave of sound, as if in protest. The rubber on the handle protected the wizard, as the shock of the impact forced him onto one knee. The spell burned and crackled at an amazingly accelerated rate but did not expand anymore! Maestro had done it. As the spell faded away in crackling tendrils that became nothingness on their journey to nowhere, the wizard collapsed to his other knee, the pain in his body from the contest of arduous pressure almost too much for him.

The grey seer lashed his tail against the ground in frustration. So, he thought, they have one amongst their number almost as powerful as a grey seer! Then, he decided, he would show this wizard the true power of his honoured order. If this human wanted to see power, he would give it to him, and all of his friends.

Grey Seer Snoutskar bite into the piece of warpstone he had concealed in his mouth earlier that day. This was his emergency supply were the worst to happen. The worst truly had happened, all because of this wizard. Snoutskar's heart began beating quickly with over excitement at what was to come, the slaughter and mayhem he would bring about. His eyes glowed green with mad power. The other skaven even knew to take a few steps away from him in this state. Again, the warp tinged lightning formed onto the platform, but this time from above, from a huge green glowing mass of energy. Lightning bolts tore down randomly across the entire length of the platform. Each shot singed the ground as it struck. The grey seer concentrated even more hateful power into it and the bolts began tearing the stone out of the ground with each strike.

Ulger was shaking a dying skaven between his great jaws when a bolt struck him and the rat man equally, felling them both. Both were barely still alive, with black smoke pouring off of their burnt bodies.

At the site of this, Tobias drew his dagger and raced as fast as he could to reached the grey seer. He determined with some instinct that he would be able to reach the vile rat mage with one strong leap and slit his throat while he concentrated. He wondered where such a tactic as this had come from, out of his psyche. He had almost made it too. He was just about to jump from the ledge when a bolt struck him in the top of the head. He collapsed to the floor, perilously close to the edge of the platform. The warpstone shard in his skull perhaps saved his life, acting as an interference to the power coursing in. He lost consciousness for the second time in this fight…

Maestro dived behind Tordrad who still stood tall. The wizard reasoned that if he were hit, at least Tordrad's armour would attract the worst of it…It wasn't that Maestro was consciously selfish or uncaring about others. He simply had an overly strong survival instinct, like that of a skaven. A skaven couldn't help being that way and neither could Maestro. Perhaps it was some mental condition that was truly the cause of it, some psychosis or whatever it was – but such things were looked at in an unimportant light within the old world. In fact, issues of psychosis were encouraged because the communities of mankind were always under constant threat from the forces of darkness that co-inhabited the lands with them. In this case, it was a now insane magically charged rat-man who sought to end the lives of the group as fast as "skavenly" possible.

Maestro concentrated on his own lightning cloud spell. He summoned an aethyric cloud with the opposite polarity sensed within the grey seer's spell. Already bolts of Maestro's lightning shot down, attracted to the grey seer's green energy. Some of the green bolts likewise were attracted to the normal lightning from above, move upwards to meet it. Where the impacts met, the two cancelled each other out into nothingness. Maestro held his hands over his head in a futile gesture of fear and self preservation. The wizard's behaviour threw the grey seer off somewhat, with him considering it too skaven-like to be comfortable. It was a little frightening to imagine the enemy behaving like you. How would you defeat them then? He thought.

The others, including Maestro got off with only a few small minor burns. Tordrad's sword had been struck with lightning, but instead of it burning him, the lightning had grown in power at the tip, making those nearby squint their eyes. After that, the blade had crackled with power for a while after. Maestro noted this out of curiosity, amid ducking under the Kislevite's legs for protection. Just as the last lashes of the storm came to an end, they fizzled out right on Rissandrea's position. She fell and hit the floor, with one last prayer to her Goddess on her lips. A vision of Shallya, she swore she saw forming before her as she closed her eyes…

Maestro was in so much pain he couldn't move.

Dieter was wheezing from the effort his supernatural encounter had put him under, during what he remembered as being a "black out". Tordrad was in no shape to fight the rest of the army alone.

Tobias, Ulger and Rissandrea were not getting back up, though all seemed alive, for now.

Tordrad regarded the lightning now crackling from his sword. He realised that this lightning was the normal colour, not the green that the grey seer had created. That could only mean one thing. He was creating it himself! But how, he wondered. He didn't think to question it. He simply saw the opportunity this gave him here and now. The grey seer was readying to cast the same spell again, this time focusing even harder to finish the rest of them off.

Maestro suddenly realised that his protective wall off flesh, bones and plate had driven off somewhere, as the sky once more became visible to him. He got to his feet and scurried after his bodyguard. After all, how was he able to guard his body if he wasn't there?

Tordrad had set off at a run, towards the grey seer. Snoutskar saw this and used the channelled energy thus far to emit a blast of green electricity from his fingertips into the man. It struck him and he fell to one knee shaking with the effort to keep moving. Green lightning danced across his body. His armour and clothing blackened where it contacted.

Maestro suddenly passed him and reached the edge of the platform. It wasn't a good idea risking himself, he knew, but doing nothing in this case was perhaps an even bigger risk! Plus, if this grey seer killed Tordrad, Tordrad wouldn't be around to die instead of him at some later date, like any good bodyguard ought to, as he reasoned it. So with that, he jumped from the edge of the platform, leaping long and far in mid air and incanting a spell as he went. The grey seer barely had time to re-channel again when Maestro made contact. His staff struck the grey seer in the mouth, chipping one of his incisors clean off. Maestro had given himself a tiny boost of magic from below, with his jump and this allowed him to levitate over the grey seer's head to escape him, or it would have at least, if Snoutskar hadn't reached a hand up and grabbed the wizard by the ankle. His taloned grip made the wizard's leg bleed. Before the evil rat man could pull Maestro down to his level or stab something sharp up at him, Tordrad was already in cutting range. He sliced his sword across the grey seer's nose, re-opening the scar on him that had so given him the name. This cut had torn flesh right down through the mouth, revealing several of his sharp teeth. Tordrad made ready with a final stab motion, perfectly aimed to go inside the open mouthed screaming creature.

With the last of his warpstone induced energy wearing off, he quickly forced out a final teleportational "skitterleap" spell on himself. Within the next moment, the grey seer appeared out of sight behind a tree in the distance. From there he scampered away, ringing the small high pitched bell of retreat and regroup, so that the remnants of his army would hear it and come.

Soon all of the skaven had gone. Clan eshin were already preparing agents to drop in at the scene when the humans had evacuated the area, so that they might dispose of the many skaven bodies that lie about here. After all, keeping the underfolk a mystery, an old wives tale to the majority of humans was the safest course for them. Less attention meant more prosperity within the Under-Empire – until the time was right for all of skavenkind to show itself, when the final great war would come and the skaven would inherit all, as was the promise of the Great Horned Rat all those years ago.

Amazingly, none of the party had died. Some had come close. Rissandrea had later spoken of seeing Shallya herself appear to her and tell her to return to her home, to Nuln and there lay proper monument to her Goddess. Rissandrea was firm in purpose now, resolving that her deity had entrusted her with a holy mission of faith – and she would not be found lacking in accomplishing it. Therefore, even though this disturbance had happened, she was still resolute about reaching Nuln. The group collectively decided that they would head back to Altdorf first and rest.

The girl they had rescued, Anastasia…she had no home left. Those in her village had turned on her and she had nearly been killed in the skaven attack. The only reason she was now safe was because of this group. She instantly hit things off well with Tordrad, having Kislevite blood roots in common at least. Therefore, she decided she would go with them for now, until such time that she could be taken to Kislev. Tordrad was notably not very eager at the prospect of the group being the ones to perhaps take her. Rissandrea wondered at this, thinking it strange that he might not want to see his home again. She believed that all of Kislev's countrymen were a proud people, detesting the Empire in comparison to their place of birth. But for now, Anastasia didn't mind where they went, as long as she was with them. This group were indestructible, in her opinion…Were that only the case…

150 years ago:

The Celestial College:

Seer Magister Artwieb gasped in realisation. The others nodded grimly. They all recognised the woman from the future vision as seen by Tristran back in Middenheim…This certainly did not bode well – and it gave the council a new timeline for attempted concentration to deal with. Perhaps now the end of the world really was coming, they considered.


	24. Chapter 24

((Don't forget to vote in your favourite character poll for this series. You can vote at fanfiction's website via this URL - .net/topic/86768/37888424/1/

Via warseer forum's stories section of the site

Or through the following warhammer fantasy forums in their offtopic sections:

Da Warpath

The Herdstone

Bugman's Brewery

Chamber of the Everchosen

The Daemonic Legion

Thanks for the support. Poll entry results amassed together will be listed here at the end of this story series. ))

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle

Chapter 24

To Nuln By Barge – Part One

On their way back to Altdorf, the group had several questions to ask.

From the diary of Maestro:

Day 88:

I'm wondering now why we didn't see a peep of that Anastasia girl during the skaven battle…I wonder where she was? Not that the authorities that be will even admit that there was a skaven battle, regardless of how much we tell them. The officials of the Empire have decided to keep the underfolk as mere myth and mystery. Something to scare the children into behaving themselves. From what I could understand of the officials I have conversed with and the study I have made, the greatest threat to mankind is the race of skaven. Though they are apparently too taken up with in-fighting and backbiting politics to properly unify enough to set upon mankind in a jointed effort. Were they to do so, it is considered highly likely that they would overcome us. If we knew for a fact that the underfolk truly did exist then we would fear them. Fear them for the bogey-men they are! We would attack and drive into their rat holds in great numbers. We would bring the fighting to them, for the first time in history and they would react by doing something that hasn't be done in history – unify out of self preservation. That would be very bad for us…

Oh well, we'll have to just let them carry on believing the myth and the lies. We'll say it was merely beastmen that attacked us. It saves time and paperwork that way!

From the diary of Tobias:

Day 88:  
Maestro was quite disturbed. He's quite disturbed generally, but on this occasion it was Anastasia. Somehow she and our driver Samuel had gone missing. He brought this concern to me and I was able to explain what was going on. I am experienced enough at seeing other casters to understand what magic is in play here. Anastasia uses the ice magic lore that can be found in the Kislev people. Their raw magical power is channelled not from the eight winds like Empire wizards, but from the ley lines that permeate the lands. I observed that though she doesn't understand how to weave magical words or willingly cast a spell, the girl can cast spells with her auto-reflexes. Just by wanting to protect herself from the skaven attack, she unknowingly weaved a shield of ice around both herself and Samuel. What made this all the more complex of course was the further genius behind it! The bending of the ice refracted light in such a way as to create a mirror of nothingness there to the air about it. For all purposes, the girl disappeared before us. I was the only one to have witnessed it.

It's lucky for the group that they have me along with them. A scholar of such masterful understanding. The buffoon Maestro wouldn't be where he was today without me.

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 88:

I have no idea what happened in the big fight. One moment I am fighting with three black cowled rat men – the next I am being pulled backwards by some force, through a hazy place that made no sense. It makes my stomach want to heave again just from remembering it.

From the diary of Tobias:

Day 88:

Ah and of course there is then the matter of Dieter! Oh dear. I saw it…I saw something that again no one else saw. I wonder why I am the only perceptive one amongst this group? Something changed in the man. Something was wrong with him. We need to be careful, to keep an eye on him. I am starting to think that he is not being honest with us about his past. If no one else will, I at least will try to observe him.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 94:

We arrived back in Altdorf safe enough.

It turns out that we have a second reason for going to Nuln now anyway. We have received new intelligence suggesting that the location of the final shard will be Nuln. I don't have to feel so guilty about pressing the party in that direction now.

From the diary of Tobias:  
Day 96:

We have used our contact in the Amethyst College, the lady wizard Gabrielle to aid us in the next leg of the journey. She has granted us access to a barge she was travelling on – 'The Emperor Wilheim'. As long as we go to the Countess of Nuln's masquerade ball as her entourage once we get there. Maestro wasn't very keen at the thought of potentially meeting Countess Emmanuelle of Nuln herself. He has heard of her rather…hot blooded reputation for males that visit within her hospitality.

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 98:

Oh wonderful. We travel by barge once more. They serve us lobster. It just had to be lobster didn't it? I wonder how long this time before wizard make himself sick? The bloated nincompoop, like all men of this Empire.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 100:

Of all the places I had to meet that woman, it just had to be while I was trapped on a barge unable to escape. I have to admit though, I was and am rather tempted to jump overboard and risk my chances swimming the rest of the way…

Maestro was stood upon the deck, taking one of his quick lung-fulls of air before he'd disappear back down below, like always. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something had felt wrong about being up on deck. Something that his future warning senses had nudged in on. He looked around warily and still couldn't figure out what it could be.

Meanwhile, on an upper part of the barge, high atop on the roof of the driver's cabin, sat a rounded large figure of a woman, knelt on her knees in keen observation of a certain ragged and worried looking wizard below her. Her overzealous eye looked massive in the unrealistic lens of the telescope she looked through – however, when she opened her other eye, it too was just as large! Now she watched the man, as if he were her prey and she a huntress in the wild.

Maestro had adjusted his monocular, the implement he wore upon one of his spectacle lenses. He had felt something awry, as if he was being watched. Again he adjusted the monocular in the direction his mystical senses drew him to and he saw nothing – nothing but a blur of brown. He then realised that he was zoomed too far in – on some wooden decking. With a quick sharp little twist the viewfinder snapped back to reveal the entire lens filled up with a face! An image of a burly round faced woman who was looking back at him! She had a sadistic looking lustful smile on her face. Her smile was wide and revealed her mix of real and wooden teeth. The large wart under her eye had blue veins going through it, the same colour of blue as her own eyes, almost giving the impression that she was growing a third eye too. This was of course just Maestro's way of seeing things and in no way an indicator of mutation – especially given the fact that the woman who glared longingly at him, who jumped and clinged onto a rope then swung down towards him crying out in a shrill cry of adventurous glee was a Sister of Sigmar – a Sigmarite Nun! Worse still he knew her. This woman, he knew from Altdorf. This woman was besotted with him. He had lost count of how many times she had tried to win him over…an admirer wasn't such a bad thing as he saw it, even though he wasn't interested – it was just how forceful she was about it.

Sister Angelique Rosemead had landed on the deck as a creaking strain poured out of the floorboards below her. She started speaking, "Oh my Maesty-ro, I have not stopped thinking about you. I waited with baited breath for when I would next see you my wuffy puffy."

It was all the wizard could do to not let a panic attack come on. He steadied himself against some rigging and concentrated on the sensation of the rope and the way it hurt his hand the harder he clenched it.

Maestro looked around him with a shudder and said, "I'm just glad the others didn't hear that."

"Yes you are right" answered the overly enthusiastic brawny nun, "we should be alone together, to catch up on the past…and the future…"

Maestro spluttered and almost choked on just spittle alone before replying, "Oh no, I'm fine being up here thankyou sister."

"Oh come now" came the nun's reply, "you don't have to be so formal with me! Call me Angelique. I like it when you say my name."

Maestro replied, "Oh well in that case then, I would hate to disrespect your order and faith to Sigmar, sister."

Angelique frowned at this. Then her jovial smile returned to her plump features as she enquired, "So what brings you aboard the Wilheim my sweet?"

Maestro sighed and answered, "We're being roped into more service for others. All in the name of progressing, of getting better. You'd think I would have a control over where I'm going but fate or whatever it is just keeps pushing me in a particular direction."

Angelique took Maestro's hand in hers and seemed oblivious to the fact that it made the wizard squirm as she replied, "You cannot fight destiny, Maestro. What is meant to be…is meant to be…"

Maestro tried freeing his hand but it was no good – her grip was too tight. He simply considered that he was lucky to at least be a celestial wizard, in the most prime of positions to question and change fate if anyone ever was! It hadn't saved him from this though, he considered…

Quickly changing the subject, Maestro asked Angelique, "And sister, what brings you toward Nuln?"

"Sigmar guides us in his own way my fluffy bunny. I am to attend Lady Emmanuelle's fancy dress ball on a secret mission to uproot a possible chaos cultist amongst her bodyguard detail. So you can see, it was Sigmar who guided me to you."

Maestro almost stupidly made the mistake of saying that he too would be in attendance at the ball and then stopped himself, realising what a mistake that would have been. It would have also further given Angelique ammunition towards her crazy theories of divine match-making between them. Suddenly a panicked feeling arose in him, that she would see him at the ball anyway. Then he realised that they would be wearing masks. All would be well then, he considered.

"Maestro's hand was starting to throb now, in the grip of the nun. He asked, "Erm, could I have my hand back please?" and gave it a futile tug, before adding, "It's starting to hurt, you see."

"Oh poor little man." Came the woman's reply, "of course. Let me kiss it better for you." And she began to do just that, even though the wizard strained in her profoundly powerful grip.

Maestro was scared of this woman, he hated to admit it, but it was the truth. Come to that, he was scared of most women. Angelique then oddly made a point of this in her next question, "My darling. Why do you play so hard to get? Why can we not just be together like we are supposed to? Why keep up this lie? This façade?"

Maestro winced at her forwardness. He had gotten used to living a life free of this woman and he didn't much like the reminder of being back in it. He realised that if he told the woman that she wasn't attractive to him, it might anger her in some way. He wouldn't be able to defend himself either, because no spells or weapons were allowed to be used on the barge…Even with her bare hands, Maestro fancied the woman could kill him in seconds. He devised a new strategy – one that was not a lie – and with it he replied, "Look, I've told you before about my dooming? The warning curse. I had my stones read by an expert in this and I carry with me a dooming. _Women_. Women shall be my downfall it said. The further I am from women, the better it is for me, you see? If you believe so much in fate, and in my well-being, you will understand surely that this is for my best interests."

The nun considered this for a few moments, a serious look across her features. To Maestro's sorrow her confident smile suddenly returned again and she replied, "And it may be true, with any other woman. You were right to steer away from those other harlots and strumpets, my love. I think you are right. You are cursed by women. But let me ask you a question my wizzly wizardy woo-woo…"

The nun was oblivious to Maestro's eye spasm as it twitched violently in protest to her wording. She simply continued, "The first place we met was when I was on a mission to your College? Do you remember that day?" Maestro solemnly nodded his head as she continued, "then we met after that, at the church of Sigmar, going to and fro and sometimes on official business? For blessed Sigmar's church is only across the road from your College. Each and every time we meet, including now I am on official business for the church or am in the vicinity of the church building itself. Therefore, our meeting is guided by Sigmar – and in that regard it must be safe. Therefore, were you to fight against it Maestro, do you know what that would be?"

Maestro gulped and blinked his eyes once before quickly shaking his head, fearfully at what the crazed woman was about to say.

Angelique continued, "It would be blasphemy against HIM. You do not wish to blaspheme against Sigmar do you?"

Maestro could see nothing he could say that would get him out of this pickle. His heart beat anxiously in his chest. His head throbbed terribly with stress and then suddenly, he fainted. He would not wake for a very long time indeed. Dreams of doom and women, women and doom and blue veined warts garlanded his nightmarish slumber. He felt trapped within it, as if he might be sleeping for a thousand years. With Angelique waiting for him outside of that reality, he preferred it that way…


	25. Chapter 25

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle

Chapter 25

To Nuln By Barge – Part Two

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 100:

I was standing on the deck admiring the view outside when something shocking came to my attention. Over on the river bank I was facing, some way ahead was a scene of slaughter. A caravan party with bodies surrounding it lay dead over the way. Many of the trees in the copse that ran along the bank were scarred and hacked, as if a group of violent minded people had passed that way. The boxes of goods they carried were fine cloth. I could see this as one of them had been busted open, revealing its contents. They had left that too.

Then the truth of the matter was revealed.

High above the barge, on an overhanging rock that jutted out from the mountainside above the river, a wild eyed bloodshot beastman peered over, watching the approaching vessel beneath. He gave a sharp hand signal and guttural command to a nearby gor, who held a rowing boat's oar in his hand. He quickly wedged the paddle end of it underneath a large nearby boulder, with the help of two more gors pushing it with their hands.

The maddened beastman too resembled a gor, yet he looked like so much more as well. The veins beneath his skin stood up on end. He breathed heavily at all times and dried blood was clearly visible down his front and chin, originating it seemed from his mouth. He once had been a gor, but now he was something else. Tallagh Grorrv now commanded this troop, a force of beastmen he had once been an infantry fighter within. He barked a new order to the other side of the wide ledge. Fifteen ungors quickly took their positions, with bows at the ready, while the gors pushed the boulder to the very edge.

Then the troops waited for his signal.

Soon the barge was in the right location and he gave the order to open fire. The ungors shot their arrows over the edge and let gravity bring their plummet into an awful missile barrage.

Rissandrea was standing next to a marine, one of the posted guards that would attend such barges. They had been chatting about faith and life's bigger meanings when the sky above them turned suddenly dark. They looked up just in time to see a hail of arrows come down upon them.

One arrow lodged into the collarbone of the man Rissandrea had been speaking to. Another arrow had landed close to Rissandrea – too close! It had pinned her robe to the deck, through the bottom flowing part that met the floor. She tugged at the material and it pulled free with a sharp tearing sound.

Next the Shallyan turned her attention to the injured man as the alarm began sounding. Shouts and screams could be heard already. A terrible voice carried on the wind, inciting some dark command in a language nobody present could understand…nobody conscious that was…

A dead passenger, a woman in her twenties was carried along the deck by an already grieving man. Her arrow wound bled profusely where the man had already removed it. Rissandrea looked around, trying to assess the injured and those who could be saved. The casualties were not many at least.

Suddenly a new hail of arrows came down, raining around the passengers and crew, but taking no casualties this time except for a crewman who had an arrow scrape down his cheek, making it bleed deeply.

The screaming commotion brought others from below, onto the deck to see what all the hubbub was.

The sea marines were ready, weapons in hand, shouting orders back and forth for defensive positions to be set up and maintained.

Suddenly there was a crashing sound, as a falling screaming ungor plummeted into the deck, smashing cargo and rigging with his descent. His body was crushed against the now split plank boards. This ungor had been unfortunate enough to miss twice with his bow hitting only water - giving Tallagh Grorrv all the excuse he needed to dish out what he saw as a fitting punishment for negligence in action. Again his wild cry sounded and again the arrows fired.

The captain of the vessel was looking up from his cabin, in distress, as his first mate was giving him a report of what was happening out there. The captain quickly turned the barge to the starboard and it pressed towards the bank with great power. This was a timely action, as the next hail of arrows landed soon after. Only two of them had made contact with the barge, thudding into the wood planks harmlessly.

The war gor cried in triumph at his foe doing exactly what he had wanted them to do! He gave the command at once and the gors hauled the boulder as hard as they could. They were pushing and pushing, but for some reason the boulder did not topple over the edge, simply choosing to shift weight back towards them as they stopped pushing. Tallagh was not impressed and screamed wildly at the gors who renewed their efforts suddenly. Even this fearful expression of energy on their parts was not enough to shift the huge rock.

It suddenly became clear why this was happening. An outgrowing tree had sprouted out from the mountainside and was stopping the boulder from rolling forwards properly.

Tallagh peered threateningly over the edge once more, seeing the barge was about to pass out of range for the planned arial attack. Failure was unacceptable to Tallagh. He had suffered defeats before, back when he was a normal gor, but since his new found strength of status, he knew no defeat whatsoever. He was not about to start now! The growling war gor watched the gors struggling with the root, to push the boulder around it somehow, while one of them hacked desperately at the small tree, to chop it off. _Ineffective_, thought Tallagh, who walked purposely up to the gors, looked at them a final time and kicked the one currently pushing the boulder at that moment – a great kick which connected with the entire bottom of his hoof. The impact was harder though than any kick had a right to be, snapping the small outcropping tree and pushing the boulder, gor and all over the edge into a plummet below.

Tordrad, Tobias, Dieter and Ulger had now joined Rissandrea on deck. Maestro was still out cold, but Rissandrea wasn't so concerned about him. She had given the wizard a quick medical inspection earlier, under the watchful gaze of Angelique. The Shallyan had put his unconscious state down to over exertion and recent stress. He would recover well enough she knew – plus he had been left in the capable if rather large hands of the Sister of Sigmar, who stayed at the man's bedside praying for many an hour.

On deck, Dieter looked up to see the falling boulder above. The others followed his gaze. Dieter calmly patted Ulger and stated, "If we die, we die." before pulling his jacket up around his face to cover his head. Just then, the huge boulder landed: hitting the very edge of the barge, almost capsizing it from the force and making it rock violently.

Below deck, Angelique had ended up on top of the still unconscious Maestro, as she peered down at him and said aloud to no one in particular, "Sigmar truly works towards this union, does he not my love?"

Above on deck, the barge was still mostly intact. The boulder had pulled some of it away, but there was no breach enough to spring a leak. It had been mostly cosmetic structural damage. The boulder bobbed in the water, as if mocking them. There must have been some property within the rock, or air that kept it afloat even this long considered Dieter.

Rissandrea praised Shallya. Tordrad praised Ursan. Tobias grumbled and cursed, having been lurched backwards onto his back from the force of the blow. Ulger growled defensively at the new scent approaching from above…

Tallagh Grorrv had bounded forwards, his heart carrying his unnatural blood through his veins at an alarming rate, as he grabbed the two remaining gors and jumped over the edge, with one firmly in each hand. The two gors screamed fearfully at their unexpected descent. Their war gor leader roared with the lust of battle ahead. He could taste it coming up and he would let nothing step in its way.

Tallagh landed, his fall softened somewhat by the unfortunate gors either side of him. Their bodies broke upon contact with the boulder, but their leader who had still been gripping them had perhaps been lucky, with the equal distribution of force at his sides - and he had landed on his hooves, directly upon the boulder. Even with this small help, it was unlikely that any normal creature could survive such a jump – and thusly it was clear that Tallagh was very special indeed!

The maddened war gor let both gors slip from his grasp, into the deeps of the river below, before he bellowed a challenging war cry and leapt with all of his might. Within a blur of motion, the war gor had made the jump from the boulder that had landed behind the barge and the vessel itself. Had he waited any longer to jump, he perhaps might not have made it – although that theory was in some doubt, considered Dieter, who observed how easily the man beast had managed what was arguably a hard jump, making it look easy anyway.

The crazed creature landed, his hooves making a clud sound on the deck. He simply stood there, his huge chest moving up and down as he breathed in the battle to come. He unfastened a huge polearm from his back. Its deadly range was drastically more than the eye could behold, as a passenger attempted to run – the war gor swung the weapon outwards and struck the man through his shoulder with it. With a carefully precise yank motion, the blade tore the arm off. Gutteral screams ensued from the victim who stumbled away – satisfied with the horror, Tallagh allowed him to do so.

The crew's onboard weapons had been unlocked to allow the marines access to them. A marine raised a handgun, aiming at the great beastman. He calmed himself and fired with a deadeye shot. The bullet did not strike its target in the way he had hoped though. The beastman swirled the weapon in front of him and there was a clanging spark sound as the bullet ricocheted off of the metal weapon head. Everyone gasped at this show of skill. Confidently Tallagh strode towards the quivering marine, who regained his senses in time to draw a sword. The weapon was quickly knocked out of his hand, even though he had struck with it. The beastman's reflexes were on a scale beyond imagination. The marine ran from him and jumped overboard, screaming as he went!

Tordrad saw this and his face soured at this cowardice. He grabbed the only weapon at hand, a scimitar that lay nearby, and stepped forwards in determination.

Rissandrea walked behind him, ready to support as always. Lives were at stake and she would do whatever was needed to save them.

Dieter and Tobias sneaked forwards carefully, to get into flanking positions as quietly as possible.

4 weeks ago.

A bloodied copse not far from Nuln.

An Empire threat response platoon was mopping up the last beastman stragglers, of those foolish enough to run amok, attacking some of the smaller settlements in the area. This band of beastmen was only one of several running rampant across the lands, so near to the city without being picked off, especially during a militarily busy time that it was disquieting.

Still, with this battle, the chain of command was now severed from the head of the troops, for Captain Anders's soldiers had at last found and killed the war gor in charge. His head hung from the captain's horse already, chained up by the pierced ring that went through its entire nasal cavity.

"_No wonder we won" _Anders had joked, _"It probably couldn't see past that chunk of metal in its face."_

The men laughed in approval, as a release of the nervous energy that had built up in the face of battle.

Suddenly, Captain Anders became intrigued, as he saw what he had believed to be a corpse, getting back up - A beastman gor who didn't look particularly spectacular but a little more powerful than the others of the squad around him.

Anders instinctively pegged this one as a chieftain, a unit champion. With a furious bellow, the gor commanded to the bodies about him. Several of them arose from the ground. This took the good captain by surprise, and he ran his hand along the feather in his helm as he would often do out of habit.

These were not undead. These were simply beastmen who were badly injured and would have normally laid there until either the Empire troops had gone or until the soldiers killed them, by stabbing the dead "just to be sure." It was common for troops to be put out of a battle in this fashion, damaged sustained that the pain stops one from arising, or sometimes going in and out of consciousness while bleeding badly. But for those around the gor chieftain to arise on his command, this was something out of the ordinary. Anders glared at his intended target as it strode towards him, seemingly unaware of the head wounds it had sustained. The captain had his runner take his horse back out of the way as it was starting to spook, perhaps just from being in the presence of a true child of chaos.

The chieftain closed in on the captain, bellowing a challenging word in its bestial dark tongue. The captain drew his sword in response. The other beastmen indeed waited back to allow this fight to take place.

The chieftain picked up a bone cudgel from one of the dead of his kin and kept walking. As he did so, he threw the weapon at the captain's face! Such an act was so unexpected that Anders almost didn't doge the improvised projectile in time.

The chieftain, Tallagh Grorrv drew an axe. Anders was ready in-case this too was thrown at him. It wasn't. Instead the beastman reached him and melee battle began.

This chieftain had a strong sense of battle skill, perhaps long honed over the years. His attacks were wild but with grace of balance enough to parry again from the captain's counter attack. Already the captain's sword had been knocked aside and he was open! The chieftain thrust the point on the weapon's head up to take him in the gut, but Anders brought his metal clad boot across and kicked the axe against its flat part, redirecting the angle to miss him.

It was then Anders's turn to be on the offensive. His speed was superb, forcing the gor chieftain to peddle back defensively with flurry after flurry of attacks.

Still the beastman retreated as Anders tested him from every conceivable angle. It would not be long now, the captain knew. Already he had gashed the creature to the arm twice. It was a testament to its willpower that it had not dropped its axe, for one blow had slashed right down to its hand, opening a wound between his forefinger and thumb. Gripping the axe would now be agonizing.

As the battle continued, with the human stepping forwards every few blows and the beastman retreating, a strange darkness over them from the sky was impossible to miss. As if a rainy storm were due at an accelerated unnatural rate. An explosive impacting sound off in the distance that made the ground about them tremor, not far from them, threatened to tear their attentions away from the battle they were in, but both fighters kept their enemy resolved before them. That did not stop the others of their respective groups from looking though.

Human and beastman alike, stood and gawped in shock at the smoke rising up from the site of impact two miles away. They couldn't tell what it was, but something had fallen from the sky.

As the two adversaries fought on, a new presence in the sky above them again was impossible to miss, even though they dared give it much regard. A darkness began to grow as a large shadow formed over the two of them.

Tallagh swiped his axe in a wide arc to buy himself room and chanced a look upwards at the cause of the growing shadow. He was in disbelief at the huge chunk of green stone that plummeted towards their very position. The captain almost had Tallagh's head off, but this time he jumped backwards just in time to avoid the fatal blow. Suddenly the beastman's hoof struck against the body of one of his own kin and he fell over backwards with a crash – just as the warpstone meteorite hit their location, landing dead centre upon the Empire captain, who had looked up at it and smiled darkly with acceptance of his cruel fate.

As the large chunk of warpstone made contact, it killed the human outright and splintered immediately, with pieces firing off like shrapnel around it. The dust cloud and soil thrown up buried several of the fallen, both those dead and alive.

Tallagh's rough leather armour tore open as warpstone flew at him. One particularly shard entered his body perfectly, like a needle bullet. It punctured the beastman's heart and lay embedded there as the falling soil fell around him, burying him alive.

There he lay, for days on end, trying to dig his way out, but struggling, because the warpstone in his chest felt like it was killing him. For some reason, the wound had not been fatal. This warpstone had begun to mutate the area of its entry soon after contact. This effect had indeed resurrected the dead beastman's heart and forced it to beat, against the will of all natural biological order.

Still Tallagh lay there, slowly digging his way out. The only food was that of his own kin, the body he had tripped over. Had that mistake in battle actually saved his life he wondered? Were he standing, what then would have happened? Was the shock perhaps lessened by him exposing less of himself to it on impact? That the body of his dead kin shielded him from much of the blast? For it had surely hit the corpse first. Whatever the reason was, he told himself that he was alive and his foe was dead. It was an intervention of the chaos Gods, he was sure. It was a sign that he had been chosen to fulfil some great deed.

The other beastmen who had been similarly struck with pieces of the foul tainted green stone had also mutated somewhat, but none of these survived. Only Tallagh would prove strong enough in body and will to dig his way out and be all the stronger for it.

4 weeks later…

Tallagh's polearm smashed against Tordrad once more. With no armour to protect him, he was prone. Already the Kislev born warrior was bleeding in three places as Tobias and Dieter finally managed to attack. Ulger sunk his teeth into the war gor but the creature brought his other hoof up and kicked the doberman away, fracturing its face from the impact. It whined and pulled itself back up to a standing position as its master, Dieter threw a bottle of alcohol at the beastman. It impacted with a _klish_, harmlessly against his armour. Every attack from Dieter's previously concealed scalpel was dodged.

Tobias let swing another stone from his sling. This time, it had hit the beastman. Again, he shook off this attack as if it were nothing and kicked Todrad hard to the chest, sending him sprawling across the deck. He cursed in his native tongue.

Rissandrea proclaimed, "I have never seen anyone do that to Tordrad! I fear this bodes ill for us all."

Together, Ulger and Tordrad charged as Rissandrea fired redemption, the gun she carried. They had not bothered to search the Shallyan nor enquire for weapons and hence she hadn't realised that weapons were not allowed – for it was unlike the order to carry weapons. The gun's shot blazed out towards Tallagh, again with a tail on it like a white comet. The war gor had seen it coming though and side stepped, ducking his head under and around the bullet as the trail whizzed past him harmlessly! The soon to be priestess stared in fascinated horror. How could anyone dodge a bullet?

Ulger and Tordrad leapt at the same time, a jumping attack to bring the full momentum of their weight and gravity down upon the war gor. Tallagh did not balk at this. He placed his weapon's handle in a horizontal position and thrust up outwards at them both. Not only was the war gor strong enough to hold the two of them in their jump, (Ulger at the neck) but his counterforce actually repelled them both backwards onto their backs, each landing with a terrific crash on the decking. Tordrad's head had hit the board too hard and he began to lose consciousness.

Ulger was struggling to get back up. Dieter commanded the dog to stay put, telling him he was a good boy. Rissandrea rushed to Tordrad's aid at once, pulling his eyelids open to check his pupils and whispering prayers of healing.

As another stone struck the war gor, he had decided that that was enough. He brought the handle of his weapon up and round into Dieter's face, his movement a blur. The impact spun Dieter around to face the other way and dropped to one knee. Were any of these a threat to Tallagh, he would have made the executioner's kill there and then. But they were not. Plus the one who had flung stones at him was on his mind foremost.

Before Tobias could load another shot, the war gor was upon him, with blinding speed. No-one they had seen had ever moved as fast as this, except perhaps on horseback. He picked the halfling up by the throat, lifting him off the ground so as to be level to level with his face.

Tobias desperately swung his hanging legs, but they were too weak to do any harm from kicking. His prised his hands around the grip of Tallagh, but this he knew, was also a futile gesture. Soon his face was beginning to turn red, as death from asphyxiation was only moments away – but just at that very same moment, the beastman, himself imbued with warpstone, recognized a trace of it in the halfling too. He was just like him. How? The confusion of this made him let Tobias go, who fell to the floor like deadweight. He was barely alive and certainly no longer conscious.

Dieter quickly ran up behind the war gor, jumped onto his back and called upon the small reserves of secretly kept illegal magic within him. A small amount of fire appeared in his hand as he brought it against the alcohol that stained the armour. It went up like a match!

Tallagh reached around and pulled the trainee doctor down and over him, as the fire blazed on the war gor's body, burning him severely across the torso. He then held Dieter tight in a bear hug like manoeuvre until Dieter cried out in pain, as flames licked at him.

Dieter would not survive this long and this made him angry. So angry that the other, the presence almost took ahold of him again.

Dieter's shadow shifted jaggedly, dancing up Tallagh's body, cast unevenly against the burning flames. These same flames seemed to bother the war gor in no way, even though his skin was cooking through the armour he wore.

The shadowy hand curled up to Tallagh's throat and there it snapped in movement, its fingers closing around the beastman's windpipe to strangle him. This did throw the creature off of its attack. It began to struggle with the shadowy presence that strangled him, as he let go of Dieter.

Dieter's skin was burnt up the left side, from waist up as far as his neck. He resolved that higher collars would be in good order. A strangely calm thought to have had, seeing as the pain he was in and the injury sustained should have been the things on his mind.

The warpstone shard inside the beastman's heart had cauterized the wound when it struck – however it did something else as well. It mutated the cells of the organ itself, super enhancing it so that his heart would beat at an extraordinary rate. The heart inside the foul creature's chest began to speed up, as abnormal amounts of adrenaline surged into his system. His gift was at last kicking up into a new gear – this time to compensate for the oddly paranormal attack the small curly haired human had brought upon him.

Everything around Tallagh moved slower than it ought to. He recognized this effect as beneficial. It wasn't that the world was moving slower. He was moving faster! His eyes were perceiving input at an accelerated rate.

The presence that strangled him, cut off his windpipe. With an almost supernatural blurring shift of movement, Tallagh Grorrv moved out of the shadowy grip and roared at it with commanding presence. The blast of this sent it backwards flying into Dieter at once. This knocked the would be doctor onto his back and sent him sliding across the ship. The shock of the other's presence so forcibly taken into him, brought Dieter low, making him convulse on the ground. Rissandrea looked about her, seeing that there was nothing she could do against the monster – with her team mates down. She could only try to save them in any way she could, but she feared that the dreaded beast man would not let her.

There was a terrific crashing sound as doors flung upon further back on the barge. Then very heavy quickened footsteps could be heard approaching.

A woman's voice called out, "Beast! You shall face the wrath of Sigmar."

Angelique Rosemead appeared at the front of the deck, bearing a great two handed hammer and pointed it towards Tallagh in challenge. She looked around at the casualties already suffered and saw again the beastman's speed as he threw a charging marine over his shoulder and into the water, with but one hand.

"It ends here!" cried the plump woman as she ran towards the war gor with the hammer she had broken free from the weapons locker. The great weapon glowed with a bright intensity. A holy radiance could be felt from it and this made the beast man roar, as if in mental pain at its proximity. His skin began to darken in reaction to the presence, as if he was mutating once again. His fur was also changing, turning a bluer shade of colour.

The war gor waited, his long pole arm in a counter attack stance as Angelique neared him.

Just as Tallagh was ready to avoid the blow, the sister of Sigmar cut short her downward swing, bringing the massive hammer down against the deck between them as she cried out a prayer of strength to her God. She concentrated with all of her strength as a powerful zeal enlightened her muscles to a supernatural level.

When the hammer struck the wooden deck, it cracked from impact as planned – a huge gaping hole that shattered downwards to the water below as the holy infused energy connected to the weapon gave it a further mass charge of shock wave, finally released.

They were very near the end of the barge and the beastman had nowhere to go as the impact created fast splits across the whole deck and down the entire vessel.

Without warning, the entire end of the barge gave way and fell into the water with a large splash that sent water up over their heads, covering the entire barge.

Tallagh could not be seen amidst the wreckage in the water but Angelique was taking no chances. She looked back towards the captain's bridge cabin at the other end and saw him looking back up the barge in concern. She took a deep breath and shouted a command at the top of her powerful lungs, "Captain, get away! Full speed ahead!"

The captain did not have to be told twice and within moments, the vessel was pulling away at its top speed.

Rissandrea continued to heal those who had fallen in battle as they pulled away from the place of the wreckage and all was still…

((Don't forget to vote in your favourite character poll for this series. You can vote at fanfiction's website via this URL - .net/topic/86768/37888424/1/

Via warseer forum's stories section of the site

Or through the following warhammer fantasy forums in their offtopic sections:

Da Warpath

The Herdstone

Bugman's Brewery

Chamber of the Everchosen

The Daemonic Legion

Thanks for the support. Poll entry results amassed together will be listed here at the end of this story series. ))


	26. Chapter 26

**Their Fated Travels…**

RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle

Chapter 26

To Nuln By Barge – Part Three

The barge had suffered a terrible amount of damage, but its design had been commissioned on a purely private basis and therefore had implemented ideas not usually seen within the design of normal passenger transports. This one had water proof sealed segments to its hold compartments so that that part that did indeed break away, didn't sink the entire vessel.

Nothing had been seen of the beastman war gor who was presumed dead and no further attacks came.

Soon after the incident had happened, the amethyst wizard Gabrielle aboard the barge was assisting the vessel's travel, in a semi state of magically willed meditation to keep it moving forward at great speed. Slowing down now would be potentially fatal given the conditions of the land around them and the attack they had just endured. Her concentration meant that they were now making even better time than they would have been. However, it also meant them making an unscheduled stop along the way for dockyard inspection. After all, the lady magistrate could only concentrate her powers for so long before needing to sleep.

Some passengers disembarked prematurely of their destination, not wanting to chance the river any longer. This just so happened to free up space for new passengers.

Tordrad, Rissandrea, Tobias and Dieter stood together watching the newcomers board. One was a tall, muscular looking armoured fighter type in his early fifties. As he thanked the staff and bowed, it was clear that this man had roots in Bretonnia, still carrying some of the accent in a warped mix of that and of the Empire's general accent. Dieter considered that this man must have spent quite a time away from his home land. His behaviour too, while courteous also carried a certain rugged air about it, as if the refined training he would have had perhaps was slipping by the wayside for whatever reason. Dieter was very good at reading people like this. Those who had no magic. They were easiest to read.

The would be doctor scowled at the next passenger accompanying the Bretonnian: A gnoblar, who carried a range of weaponry about his person that suggested he was a helper to the man, ready to hand him a weapon of variety when required. However, the way he looked too, something I his eyes and the scars on him suggested that he too might be a formidable opponent in battle, oddly enough. Dieter chuckled hatefully at the idea of killing such an ugly greenskin small thing. He detested small people.

Gnoblars are cousins of the goblin race, usually employed (well, kept) by ogres in a somewhat mutually beneficial lifestyle. How odd then to see one wandering about in civilised society and with a human too, thought Dieter.

Dieter watched as other passengers stared in fright at seeing a greenskin board with them – and then watched with intrigue as the man shackled the creature's legs and hands with manacles. Based on the fact that he did this only now and not before they boarded, Dieter concluded that this was merely for appearances sake, for the sake of the other passengers and not for that of the human. Indeed, it appeared that the human and the greenskin got along quite well actually! They spoke as if they had known each other for years.

Next to board, also with this bizarre party came a person that put Dieter into a state of alert – someone he couldn't read: A wizard. He was obese and of average height. His face could not be seen behind the gold mask he wore across it. This told the physician that this was a magistrate of the gold order, those wizards who would manipulate metal itself.

The wizard's high pitched voice was instantly irritating for Dieter to hear, yet there was something of a scoundrel about his tone too. He boarded the ship with great endeavour, frequently dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief from the effort of the climb up the somewhat raised boarding plank.

Last to board was another Bretonnian. This time a damsel. She spoke in a much purer manner, unlike the man. She joined the group too to complete their numbers but Dieter could see no closeness between the man and woman to suggest that they were anything more than team mates. Magic too danced somewhere behind this woman's eyes. Dieter would have to keep an eye on this lot, he reckoned…To make matters worse, their cabins were close to the party's.

Later that day the barge had begun to move up the river again, having passed its dockyard inspection.

Night had come upon them once again and most of the passengers were asleep.

Beyond the sounds of snoring here and there about the sleeping quarters, an easy to miss muffled scream followed by a squelching sound could be heard – as a crewman desperately answered his attacker's question. The wizard he did indeed confirm was in this area. With that, he gagged as the last of his life force was robbed from him by the dark hearted person who stood over him.

Quickly the assailant moved up the passage, looking at closed doors to either side. A slender form gave suggestion of it being a woman underneath the dark grey full length coat. She then produced a gem of fine quality, that instantly glowed with red pulses. She smiled as this indicated that the magic user was indeed close.

As the assailant made her way further up the passage, the gem's pulsing began to speed up, until she passed a room in particular. After passing its doorway, the pulsing began to slow again, which made her turn about and walk towards the door.

Quietly she crept into the room. Locks meant nothing to her anyway, but this room wasn't locked anyway. She saw a form in the bed before her, asleep. She moved forwards and still the gem sped up to confirm the target. She would give her quarry no chance. Quickly she drew an ornate looking dagger, that had crimson jewels set into its handle – and brought the piercing end down into the sleeping figure, piercing the sheets and bringing about a sudden scream that was muffled by a hand across the mouth.

The scream! It didn't sound right! It sounded like a woman? But her target was a man. How could this be she wondered? But then it dawned on her, of course, there must be other magic users aboard! As the assassin looked closely at the now dead woman in the bed, she noted her blonde hair and fine features, so different to her own. The only thing they indeed shared in common the horrified death gaze on her face – for she recognized that look from deep inside her own soul.

Where the dagger had pierced the woman, a strange red glow emanated from the wound. This weapon was an artefact of great power indeed.

Quickly the assassin made her way out of the room and down the passage again, turning to run down a new passage, following the indicator of the gem.

Maestro had slept within the cotton-wool like embrace of unconsciousness for a long time now. He had responded to no stimulus whatsoever. His magical centre, the power that exuded from his very being had been cut off during this time, due to the traumatic way that he had gone into unconsciousness. But as soon as the damsel had died, the energies stored within her from her own trauma had burst into the atmosphere of magical awareness and this had struck Maestro too. At last his own empathic magical channelling began to work again. He was now merely only asleep.

The assassin crept into a new room. This time she would make sure first. She pulled the covers back slightly and there she saw the wizard she had been looking for. Maestro Rophel Illefescion, in the flesh before her. At last her quest would be fulfilled. She rose the dagger like before, but before she could plunge it into the man's heart, Maestro's nose twitched as his sense of smell alerted him to something he did indeed have a long time hatred of. Maestro awoke with a single word on his lips, "Elf!" Just at that moment, a hammer struck the woman about the head from behind!

Angelique stood over the assassin, who was still alive, groaning to stand again. Her long coat had fallen open and only then did she see it was an elf. Not only that, but a dark elf. She wore very little in the way of clothes, showing off her body in a lurid display. This was a witch elf, one of the so called brides of Khaine.

Maestro was up and onto his feet. His staff in hand, he thrust it to the elf's throat and vented a mad anger that was unusual for the man, "Why are you here, Elf? Why does your kind plague me so? Be they high elf, dark elf or whatever elf. You are the bane of me, I'm sure!"

The witch elf began to laugh, with a mocking cruel tone evident. She was captured, was at a disadvantage and yet still she smiled. She spoke slow and purposely, "Malekith the Witch King wishes you dead. Be it not by hand now foolish wizard, be assured if he does wish it, then it shall be."

Maestro and Angelique gasped at the name. Everyone had heard of the Witch King. The leader of the dark elves, the great betrayer of his kind. He who was responsible for much of the misery the Old World was now entrapped in.

Angelique questioned violently, "Why does he want to hurt Maestro? Answer my question before I tear you in half!"

Again the witch elf laughed, but did reply, "All I know is what I am told. Hah. A future vision he has seen. A future that must be avoided. The catalyst of it all, is you!" and then she laughed again.

The elf quickly raised her dagger. Before Angelique could strike her again in response to this threat, the witch elf assassin did something that no one was expecting. She slit her own throat, quickly and confidently and died quickly with a smile on her face.

The magical dagger the assassin had wielded was a very powerful thing indeed. It was empowered by Khaine's will. The last person it killed had their soul bound to it. If the wielder took their own life too, it will bind the two together.

And so it was, that the witch elf's soul departed her body, and was drawn by the shared essence from the dagger, back towards the Bretonnian damsel. Her soul entered the woman's body and suddenly the former cadaver now alive again, smiled. This was quickly replaced by a scream of pain as the dominant original host that was still present took control again.

Crewmembers were awake by now and everyone was trying to understand what had happened.

Maestro stood up and brushed himself down, then went red as he realised he was only wearing a night gown. Worse still, he couldn't remember changing into it…Angelique hugged the wizard who gave a terrified little yelp in response.

Maestro tried talking but his voice was muffled by the bosom of the Sister of Sigmar. He at last managed to pull himself free enough to ask, "How did you know she was trying to kill me, sister?"

Angelique replied, "I saw her sneaking into your room. A young harlot intending trouble no doubt, so I struck her. It was a good job I did. You see, I am good for you my Maesty-ro."

The wizard considered this and then said, "But what were you doing creeping about at night?"

With that, the nun went a little red in the face replying, "I was coming to see you, my love."

Maestro shuddered at the thought. He considered briefly which would have been worse to wake up to, in actual fact. Though the assassin was an elf and he certainly did hate elves – this was Angelique we were talking about!

The rest of the journey went without incident, albeit with Maestro spending as much time around Tordrad "for protection" as he could. He had tried to explain to the Kislev bodyguard that he was worried in case anymore attacks came. Though the real reason, Tordrad suspected was that the wizard was afraid of the mad lusty nun who kept following him everywhere.

For now, all was well too with the damsel. They had considered her lucky to be alive - A miracle really. The gods were praised, as was usual. But ironically, that praise would have found its way instead to a more malign omniscience, gratified by the attention.

((Don't forget to vote in the favourite character poll. You can find it at various Warhammer Fantasy forums including Warseer and via the Their Fated Travels forums. Thanks for the support))


	27. Chapter 27

**Their Fated Travels…**

_RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle – recounted and extracted in a minor interpretation from some sessions too of the WHFRP 2__nd__ edition book 'Spires of Altdorf'_

Chapter 27

Nuln The Wiser

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 107

We have checked into the Reavers Return Inn, upon arriving at Nuln. Rissandrea has gone about the business she came here for, requesting a meeting with the higher ups of the Shallyan church here. She is being delayed a little though. The problem is that the vhor sub-sect that she belongs to isn't very recognized around these parts. They're considered a bit, kooky, so to speak…well to write.

Tordrad at last has some time off from his bodyguard duty and I have noticed that he and the newcomer Anastasia are getting along like a lake frozen over…surely that would be a suitable Kislevite term to use instead of the normal "house on fire".

Maestro was itching to get at the Engineering College all the way through the trip – and it was an excuse to lose Angelique who probably would have continued following him around. I must admit, that has amused me no end.

The Sister of Sigmar herself has left us and gone about her duties in the city.

The ball isn't due for a few days yet. We have time to relax. Time to explore. Perhaps…make a little profit on the side…

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 107

Those strange adventurers from the barge are staying at our inn. That is a little concerning, I must say.

What is more concerning is the headaches now. It is all too much for me. I'm feeling like I must soon take to the streets again – to find myself. To find someone who is good for me.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 110

Well I must say, studying at the College was perhaps the greatest thrill of my life. I have improved my knowledge in gunpowder and explosives exponentially! I really do need to work harder on my tinkering though! All this travel is not good for that sort of thing. It's not like I can carry a workshop around with me…although Tordrad is quite strong…but still…no.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 111

What an unusual day yesterday was! Although such weird occurrences are starting to become the norm for us…I fear. I am not even that surprised anymore.

It all started when Maestro went to the shop to buy a hochland long rifle. He said he had received the proper training for its usage at last so he saw no reason to delay on getting one. Then he saw the price tag was high and moaned at us all about it.

I determined that there was something a little off about the shopkeeper though. That something was worrying him to distraction. The more I enquired into it, the more Dieter picked up on my lead and enquired of him too. He became so very defensive at last and I shared my thoughts with the group. That is how it all came to happen next.

Maestro has recently learnt a spell that allows him to converse with birds. He decided that now was a perfect time to explore it and hone it a little more.

The spell, as he explained, doesn't force the birds to do what you say. It simply allows you to understand them and them you. It is up to you to work out the details of how fruitful such a conversation might be.

Maestro asked the bluebirds in the tree outside of the shop if they had seen anything suspicious happen there lately…

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 111

But of course, the birds didn't know what "suspicious" meant. To them, it was the notion of a predator trying to size up their nest perhaps, or the like. So I had to re-word it as something unusual, something they don't normally see.

They confirmed that there was indeed something out of the ordinary around the shop of late.

I asked them what. They then played the old bartering game. Even birds do it! Is there no one in this world who doesn't try to rip you off?

I ended up having to hand over my juiciest apple and a punnet of blueberries I had been saving since Altdorf.

Those bluebirds. Don't be fooled by how pretty they are! The brighter and more colourful the plumage, the bigger a scoundrel in a deal they are. The same system I believe goes for merchants too, in their fine silks with their scandalous prices.

Anyway, I'm getting a bit off track as usual. So the birds told me that some ugly wrong looking humans had been lurking around the shop door at night. The shopkeeper had interacted with them and given them something. Mutants then!

Tordrad's diary:

Day 111

I not know why the others even pretend wizard not look stupid. Instead they laugh so that he not see. Wizard standing there with fruit in hand, chirping at a tree like bird. All this study and magic, make a man's head go crazy in time.

Tobias's diary:

Day 111

Maestro did appear to be missing the point of the birdspeak spell somewhat. It allows you to understand them and them to understand YOU. You don't have to go tweeting and twittering up at them. In fact, they probably shouldn't even understand what you're on about if you do that! It's just that Maestro is crazy enough to still make them understand. Truly, there is something missing in his faculties.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 111

The shopkeeper soon confessed when I bombarded him with the information that nobody should know. He almost looked like he was going to cry. Mutants have been bothering him and getting money from him so that they don't mess up his business. He explained that he had seen them creep back off to the sewers each time.

Hah, what are those sewerjacks paid for, eh? And which mugs end up roped into going down into the system to root them out? You guessed it diary reader, us. Though the man did agree to give me the hochland long rifle at a massively discounted price, so that wasn't too bad I suppose.

That Anastasia girl stayed back at the Inn. Good job she did.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 111

There's always some element of chaos, anywhere you go. Handy though if you happen to be a miscreant. There's always someone around to pin it on…

Rissandrea's diary:

Day 111

As we worked our way around the sewer system, we came across several hewn out areas with makeshift temples to the Chaos God Slaanesh. May Shallya forgive me for writing its name here.

Many of these places contained mutants, that we fought and drove out. Those we captured were cruelly interrogated by Dieter. I'm used to that about him now though. Not that I condone it. Those that died were put to peace by prayer. I refuse to fire my gun at these mutants however. I know for a fact that they are not beyond redemption. Only the highest powers amongst the Shallyan church know how to actually cure them. I am determined to learn how to do this. I simply had to fend the attackers off with my staff, as best I could.

Soon though, a foe that did warrant me opening fire upon appeared. A daemonette: One of the awful daemon soldiers of the aforesaid order. I do not wish to write it twice on the same page, let alone in the same book.

Maestro was dumbfounded with fear staring at it. The pheromones she gave off from her skin did terrible things to the group – it was frightening. Tordrad even stepped forward in a dream like state and dropped his axe! Dieter pulled himself to his senses and clutched his head in pain, bent over double. The worst though was Tobias. He had outright gone up to the creature and lowered his head before her. She was getting ready to use her imposingly grotesque pincer, placed where her hand should be – and from the look of it, it was quite capable of snipping the scholar's head from his neck in one motion.

I was forced to open fire with redemption. The shot almost looked like it was going to snap Tobias out of his lull. I managed to graze the creature. Perhaps its concentration was broken just enough, but I was not going to take the chance of it. I ran to Tobias and laid a hand on his head while reciting a restorative prayer. I didn't even know if I was choosing the right one to be honest, but faith is a hard to understand thing anyway – by the nature of itself, you have to simply have to have faith.

We managed to fight her off and even banish her, as the group rose once more to their feet, free of the influence.

This ordeal left Tobias in a terrible changed state. I was unable to help him. For some reason, his mind had blockaded all attempts of help. He seemed shook up and overly scared long after the ordeal had ended. What a shame that he is effected so! Poor Tobias.

We soon encountered the mutant cult leader, Erasmus Teuber. We dealt with him too. It seems the others felt compelled to kill him. Such a brutal waste of life, all of this. Why can't they just leave us all alone, the evil that inhabits our race? I suppose I answered my own question there though – it is because it inhabits us that it never will.

Soon we started to see fresh body parts floating through the sewer water system.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 111

Against my better judgement, I followed the group to investigate where the body parts were coming from. I could sense a great evil ahead. There was no way I could leave them stranded to deal with it alone.

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 111

There is…I don't want to remember much more about the day…

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 111

We find place where sewer system becomes old abandoned building. Used to be asylum it seemed. Many shambling dead people came. We chop them up so they fall down. They stand once more so that we may further practice our chopping skill.

Soon, weirdo necromancer is seen. He be cause of it all. He be target, yes. I try chopping of him. Chop through his robe and body. Even chop his long beard. Very sharp blade this. He lay down and stay there. Wise choice, this.

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 111

As I examined the dying Necromancer, checking for a pulse, that is of course if he too wasn't undead, something unexpected happened. Talking of undead, it…the other responded to this place suddenly against my will. It had manifested itself suddenly as black tendrils from my mouth. That meddling pipsqueak Tobias was so shaken up by his ordeal that he was in no order to stick his nose in and spot it. I think the Shallyan saw something of it though, even though I had my back turned to her. My silhouette on the back wall will have given away something of what happened next.

The emerging entity took ahold of the last remnants of the Necromancer's essence and seemingly fed on them. How dare he do such a thing without my consent! But it also goes to show that he is growing more powerful. Soon I might lose control, where before I thought I had it…I must think of how to maintain the lead in this struggle.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 112

Finally I have made a discovery with Tobias. After a new medical examination I have successfully identified a foreign body inside his skull. A small shard of warpstone is lodged into the bone. I can only imagine that this occurred when the warpstone booby trap triggered, all those months ago in Altdorf when we first met.

This would explain his strange dual behaviour between night and day.

It seems his night self is a repressed personality from his younger years. He apparently used to be a thief and told me that he carries a lot of guilt about the way his behaviour rubbed off on his brother Frederick, who went down the same path as him but was arrested. Apparently it all led to the death of their father. Terrible, truly a shame. He has been holding all of this in for so many years.

This alter-ego is something I have explained to him now and he has had to take my word for it, for even now he has no awareness or memory of what happens to him at night. As far as he knows, he is simply not a very good sleeper anymore.

The piece of warpstone interacts with Morrslieb the chaos moon, for it too shines the same colour as it.

He is incredibly lucky though, if we put this into perspective. Any human who had such a thing embedded in them would have mutated severely by now. The fact that he is a halfling has stood him in good stead, only mutating some parts of his mind – just enough to bring about this secondary personality. I would say he got off lightly. Hopefully this thing won't mutate him anymore in time, because there is no way I can remove it without killing him.

The ordeal of his meeting with the daemonette was a terrible thing too – and while we were at it, I tackled this with him too.

I have determined that Tobias has suffered a malady of the mind. The soothing prayers of my lady are not enough to heal this mental damage to his already fractured psyche.

He has developed an irrational fear of the dark. To make matters worse, his night time self has been effected too, but instead of that personality fearing the dark, when in that form he fears the light, preferring now to stick to shadows. This entire thing is extraordinarily difficult to fully understand.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 113

Well here we go again. This stupid chalice and the further matter of the bound daemon within these items has at last cropped up to trouble us again.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:  
Day 113

At my behest, the group is following a new lead into the matter of the chalice. We visited one Elsbeth Becker.

There had been a number of murders around the area. We believe that the chalice and the murders are connected in some way. We decided to become more subtle about our investigation…I wonder how long the others can keep that up.

Elsbeth at least gave us a letter of introduction – with which we visited Lord Randolf Vogt's townhouse to find out what he or his son might know.

Tordrad's diary:

Day 113

We not trust the son Rolf as he talk to us, I tell this from faces of the others. I wonder if Rolf tell this too. Hah. His father, he is not about for us to talk to.

Maestro though, he just gets more stupid. Thinking bird chirping stunt will help a second time, he asks birds in tree outside of house, while we still talk to the son.

These are blackbirds though, not put up with silly wizard's nonsense. Understandable really. Next thing we see, outside of window is Maestro run to right, with blackbirds chasing him. Next we see him run right to left back across the window – blackbirds tugging on his robes and hair. Just as wizard think he is safe from birds at last, he turn to look at us and sees bird sitting on his shoulder. Peck his big nose. Serves him right.

Rissandrea's diary:

Day 113

Tobias has found a secret doorway in the very Inn we've been staying at. He was sneaking about tonight as usual, looking for targets of opportunity. One of these days he is going to get arrested, I am sure.

We went in and investigated anyway. There we say a massive abomination laid out on a surgeon's table.

On a desk in the room was the chalice!

There is something fated about all of these occurrences, or at least that is what Maestro keeps saying. Although I do believe I agree with him now.

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 113

What a surprise. That we should be holding the very chalice we sought. Too convenient. I smell a big stinky trap! I'm just waiting for it to spring on us. Why can't somebody else deal with these matters for a change? Why do we have to keep being the heroes? Being a hero is all very well and good while you are alive – you can take benefits from that. But being a hero also exposes you to terrible danger which could pose somewhat of a challenge to the aforementioned staying alive thing.

From the diary of Dieter:

Day 113

I elected to stay behind in the secret cellar room while the others went to look for some city watch help.

While waiting, I readied my scalpel for the footsteps coming down to me. I knew it couldn't be the group returning so soon. There I saw a man we came to know as Jonas Lang. He requested I give him the chalice. I asked him why I would ever want to do such a thing. He opened shirt to me and all was suddenly clear. A grotesque head protruded from the man's stomach. The face was a familiar one, I'm afraid to say. It was Claus Liebnitz. The damned man's spirit was so chaos tainted that it has even managed to infect another man like a parasite. I can relate to how annoying that is…

He confirmed that he wanted the third shard of his master, Xathrodox.

I showed this man the true power of a parasite, overpowering him sufficiently so that I could interrogate him. I do so enjoy a good interrogation. What I don't enjoy though is being hit around the head from behind while trying to conduct one. I caught a brief glimpse of Rolf Vogt as I passed out I could almost swear that the abomination was standing up of its own accord…alive.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 113

Dieter told us what had happened. When we brought the watch to the location, all evidence of our findings and indeed the chalice itself was gone. Dieter knew that he had no evidence to support Rolf's guilt so he simply told the watch that he didn't know who struck him.

What confuses me a little is why the men didn't dispatch Dieter there and then. Although, strange black marks on the floor, like lashes of black burnt parts coming from where he was laying unconscious might give some clue.

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 114

The watch claim to have caught the prolific murderer, who had been taking lives over the last few days.

We went to the watch ourselves to have a chat with the man. Dieter suspected that this man wasn't the murderer.

I am unsure quite honestly, but I do determine the man to be mentally ill and in need of treatment. I filed a report to the watch stating as much. They gave us the time of day on the matter because of the reputation that precedes us. One of these days that same reputation is going to get us all into trouble.

Extract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 115

We went to masquerade ball at last. All wearing interesting mask. I wear mask of Lion. This is insult! I demanded bear. They not know what bear is from Kislev word. So I roar to show them. They think this is lion. They would not know difference between a bear and lion if each chewed their arm off at same time even!

Group think ball is great chance to capture Rolf man, suspect in chalice stealing. Truth is, Dieter wants revenge I think. Heh heh. This I like! I like to see Dieter angry for revenge. He is funny small man.

Later, as night goes on, Rolf is spotted. Somehow Dieter finds him in crowd even though he wears mask. He try to assassinate a noble present at ball. Maestro jump from high balcony and cast spell. Lucky for him that it works. Wizard start flying and flapping arms awkwardly, causing a scene. All he needed then was to be squawking like bird like before and truly then I will say this man has gone insane.

Rissandrea in good position with staff, hits Rolf to stomach, winds him. Rolf grabs for her. Big mistake this. Holy girl in flustering panic, swipes again with staff and this time it strike man between legs. Hit him in mother and father button. Great noise he make. Very entertaining, hah hah.

Man's life we saved turns out to be cousin to Nuln's Countess. Group are thanked by Emmanuelle. Maestro though, make himself scarce just before she approach us. So like him to be afraid of women. He is not man. He is mouse. Worse still maybe! He is worm. Blackbirds – they overpower him even!

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 116

This Rolf chap was executed this morning. Swift justice in Nuln it seems. It doesn't help us though, because the authorities wouldn't listen to us when we said he probably knows something to help the investigation we're about.

Looks like another lead goes dead for us.

Today the new great cannon was unveiled in the city: The Magnus it was called. I managed to spot something wrong with it, even from my place in the crowd. Well to be more accurate, it was as if it spotted something wrong with me – fate that is. They were going to be test firing the cannon to show what it can do.

I had a sudden involuntary vision of the cannon exploding, killing everyone on the bridge, including the Countess…including me! I piped up rather quickly and pushed my way through the crowd. So very unlike me, unfortunately.

Yes I managed to stop them firing the thing, in the nick of time – then I inspected it and discovered that it had been tampered with! Foul play is further afoot. I used my engineering skills to pinpoint that exact problem.

This of course drew the Countess's attention to me. Just what I didn't want. I'd heard the rumours about her…

She invited me to attend her by "appointment" later that day. I had to make an excuse, saying that I had others places to be, to do more "heroic" acts. Hah.

((Don't forget to vote for your favourite character in the polls, running at 's Their Fated Travels section of forums (or via my profile there) or via several Warhammer Tabletop forums story/fluff sections.))


	28. Chapter 28

**Their Fated Travels…**

_RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle – recounted and extracted in a minor interpretation from some sessions too of the WHFRP 2__nd__ edition book 'Forges of Nuln'_

Chapter 28

Final Showdown In Nuln

There was a sense of trouble still in the air, thick and threatening, making it almost hard to breathe.

Maestro knew that something was about to happen too. He had studied the star charts the night before and was overly concerned about the events of today. It was the sort of day, as he put it, "where somebody you know could end up dead. Even you."

What happened next was a slow realization of panic. At first it seemed as if there was some distress nearby that the guards were dealing with. Then in another place, raised voices caught their attention. Up from sewer holes came enemies all about them, all across the city.

They had found themselves fighting their way through a crowd of mutants running riot about the streets of Nuln. Still they were trapped on the bridge.

The Countess was immediately removed from the situation and whisked away into a carriage that sped off at a great rate.

Maestro wondered for that moment how actually being Emmanuel's lover might not have been such a bad thing – it might have meant he could have escaped all of this – to be rushed off to the security of the palace instead of being out in the middle of it all. Then he remembered of course that it would have meant…doing things with her…he wasn't used to having to…do things. Plus she would only be his undoing anyway, for his dooming warned that a woman would be the undoing of him. He had already proved that with Sister Angelique!

Rissandrea raised her voice as best as she could and spoke to the others of the group, "I knew there was something big planned, from all those mutants we fought in the sewers before. Oh dear."

Tobias raised a finger knowingly and commented, "Ah, but don't you see, this is just a diversion. The real threat will appear soon, I don't doubt."

It was clear that the guards and citizens had their hands full, fighting off mutant attacks all over the place. The city watch were battling them in several districts at once.

150 years ago

The Celestial College

The Seer Council Chamber

Seer Magister Viez sank to his knees in front of his chair. The glowing pulses of the azyr crystal in the middle of the chamber danced their reflections across his face. His beard twitched from silent mutterings as his vision became more precise. His eyes turned a hazy blue colour and he saw what transpired next.

Viez raised his hands towards the crystal, with his outstretched trembling fingers weaving a thread within the air in front of them. Like playing some musical instrument, he was engaged in a process of automatic writing, but the letters and words that appeared before him did not scribble onto paper as was the norm, it appeared as visions against the very crystal itself.

The other Seer Magisters leaned forward intently to witness the level three expression in progress before them.

As they watched the picture changed from one of focus on the city guards fighting mutants to one of panic, of civilians running away from something screaming, terror on their faces. As the image became clearer, it was clear to see what was causing this commotion: An abomination. A creature stitched together made up of various body parts to become an enormous thing of terrifying appearance.

As the vision in the crystal shifted, a second abomination, different looking in its own way appeared at the other end of the city. The bridge they now stood on was the centre point linking the two areas.

Dieter could clearly be seen speaking to the others, "It looks like Rolf built a second of these things, just incase the first wasn't enough."

Rissandrea made the sign of her holy order and consecrated the ground they stood on.

Maestro looked this way and that and considered how safe he might be were he to hide under the bridge itself. It was a good idea he considered, but then knowing his luck he'd probably only be set upon by a troll or some such, that was how it worked right?

Tobias spoke out, "It is against my better judgment, but being the heroes as we now are considered to be. We must do what we can to aid the city."

Several bystanders who had witnessed Maestro's "heroic" speech to the Countess moments before cheered him and the others on expectantly…Maestro did not like that…not one bit.

Just then a voice sounded out towards the party. The hard faced Bretonnian man from before and his party of travelers, including the Gnoblar had appeared. He spoke, "Worry not, heroes of renown, we shall aid you by battling one of the abominations for you." The others of his group nodded enthusiastically at the danger. Maestro considered them all to be mad.

Rissandrea spoke out, "Yes, we cannot let this atrocity of undeath continue. We must put these souls to rest."

The damsel amongst Blitzal's group sneered inwardly at the Shallyan woman's words but hid it well with a dainty smile. So decided the damsel Andrianna internally, the evil inside me would for now have most control…

The Bretonnian man continued with, "We shall fight the one we can see behind us. You should deal with the other. We will let the city guard deal with the mutants as best they can."

"Oh joy" exclaimed Dieter sarcastically.

The fat wizard with Blitzal's group, Dappar saw this and commented, "Gorr, they're keen. Come on then Blitzal, let's do this while we still have time to catch supper out."

Blitzal replied with, "while the eatery you like still exists you mean?" as a building ended up with a hole in it from the abomination wielding a person at it like a knuckle duster.

"True" concluded Dappar.

Maestro was pulled away from the bridge, open mouthed at the idiocy as he saw it of everyone around him, even those in his party who now surely dragged him towards certain death.

Within no time at all, the group was finally upon the second abomination. It had been too interested in fighting the city watch around it until Tobias fired a crossbow bolt through its flank so that it disappeared inside. That made it turn its attention to the halfling well and truly.

Dieter smirked and said, "Not that I don't mind that thing eating you first, but then it would surely turn its attentions upon us next anyway. We may as well try to keep you alive as a distraction…for our sake"

They had split up and spread out, attacking it from all sides. Each time it attacked one of the group, another of them on its blindside would attack and it would cry in torment from the pain.

Rissandrea held redemption in a shaking hand, debating whether to fire or not. After all, there was a chance she might hit a mutant.

Still the mutants scurried about them, being kept busy mostly by the city guard who were now thrilled to see the huge creature's attention taken off of them.

Back in the Seer Magisterial Chamber, the wizards gasped as the familiar mutant face of Claus Liebnitz protruding from his host's belly appeared. They witness a vision of Tobias trying to shoot it with his crossbow but missing. Then they saw its host body picked up by the abomination and consumed. The face of Liebnitz is the last thing seen as it went down the creature's throat, laughing all the way until it could no longer be heard. This sound gave way to a humming though that continually rose in decibels until it was uncomfortable to the ear.

Next the wizards witnessed the abomination scream at the top of its lungs, its hands reached upwards, fingers splayed out. A red smoke poured from its mouth.

Seer Magister Artwieb stepped forwards, closer to the crystal and remarked, "the daemon Xathrodox, of course that foolish Liebnitz man is still the host!"

Seer Magister Leonart stepped forwards quickly and pulled Artwieb back away from the crystal's image. The wizard had been leaning in towards it to get a better look.

Artwieb gave his fellow a scolding question filled look as Leonart said, "You were getting too close Seer Magister. While it is only an image of the future and is not now, I have seen that two whole shards of the daemon exist within the creature before. That means a daemonic prince more complete than not. Daemons transcend space and time and exist in all realities, for their realm is out of step with ours anyway. Had you made contact with even the image of it, it may have become pre-eternally aware of our existence and made visit upon this place, be it before or after the events that happen here.

Again, the wizards stared in horror as the image on the pulsing gem unfolded before them. The abomination's skin in its head began splitting as black horns began pushing their way out. Long fingernails began to grow splitting the ruined fingers in place. The daemon's face began to take shape within the features of the abomination.

The huge possessed monstrous form of Xathrodox mockingly spoke to the group, "You stopped but one of my shards. But two out of three will still be enough to wipe this city off of the map and take my plans forwards. You are too late. You cannot stop me. But I know you will try."

Maestro looked to the others as if to ask if they must. Tordrad glanced sternly at him, noticing the wizard quivering fearfully on the spot. That look was enough to put Maestro in doubt that escape would be impossible.

All of the damage done to the flesh construct's body began to smoke and in doing so knitted back together.

Dieter was up close, rending his scalpel through the achilles tendon on the creature's right foot, or at least where the tendon ought to have been! A rigormortis effect had meant that this part of the foot and leg had stiffened enough to hamper walking yet also to create immunity to such attacks.

The daemon spun around and swung its claws at Dieter. The would be doctor growled and raised his staff just in time to connect with the blow. The strength of it almost knocked the implement from the man's hand however and put him off balance. The creature readied its other hand, claws point at Dieter like a group of knives to put through his stomach – but before the blow could come, Tordrad's sword made contact with the creature, tearing halfway through its already damaged right leg exposing the bone. The leg was kicked outwards defensively, impacting the Kislevian and knocking him aside. The man knew to turn the momentum of this fall into a roll, which he did. Just as the daemon turned back to face the short human with the curly black hair, his intended victim, he was nowhere to be seen. Quickly the daemon looked around and instead saw Rissandrea with her gun, redemption. It recognized the weapon from the fight before. He would not let it tear him apart this time. The unholy creature moved towards the Shallyan quickly, and snatched up a member of the city guard, using him like a shield before her.

The daemon smiled in satisfaction. He could see that the holy woman would not fire, for risk of hitting an innocent.

Tobias and Maestro however had no such qualms. The halfling fired a crossbow bolt into the daemon's side as Maestro sent bolts of electricity into the monster's body.

The daemon laughed triumphantly and spoke, "We are dancing the same dance as before, but the only thing you had to help you last time is gone. The cursed flame of Ulrich. You will find this dance ends in a very different way, mortals."

With that speech, the creature's body began to heal immediately. Smoke poured off of it as flesh reconstructed to flesh again.

"No!" shouted Tordrad, as he ran forwards, flurrying attacks into the daemon's side and ducking the counter swings for as long as he could before he was caught by one and knocked down at last. He was replaced immediately by Ulger who jumped high for the creature's body and bit deeply into its chest. Dieter came upon it too and struck with his blade. At that exact moment, the daemon let a wave of fire rush out from its body, like a pulse of energy that surrounded its skin. Ulger fell from it, his face burning and Dieter recoiled in pain, his hand burnt by the fire. Dieter could have sworn that it had felt like the fires of some hell were trying to pull him in.

Finally the screaming burning city guard was put out of his misery, as the daemon tore him in two.

Tobias almost vomited seeing this. Even Tordrad paused for thought as he picked himself back up properly. Maestro though drew river's edge and brought the watery blade across the daemon's back, extended as far as it could like a whip. The blade was smoking after contact with Xathrodox.

Maestro could feel a pulling sensation coming from the consciousness inside the weapon, it was unhappy to be fighting this foe. Maestro thought back at it, incase it could understand his thoughts too – that he too wasn't happy to be here fighting, but they didn't fight for glory, they fought for survival.

The daemon focused on Maestro and took a deep breath. Flame shot out its mouth as the wizard ran behind some of the city watch who were fighting mutants. Both watch and mutants were caught in the blaze, so that Maestro wasn't.

The daemon stared at the man in disbelief as he peeped around the charred corpse of a mutant, dead standing stuck to the spot. He did not know humans could be so cowardly. Tordrad's sword hit the creature again. It struck back and the Kislev man blocked the blow with his shield.

Lightning appeared to crackle up and down Tordrad's arm with his new attack and as it struck it expressed itself through the weapon he held! With a mighty war cry he burnt the creature's flesh as he cut deeply. Even then, the wound began to smoke and knit together.

Tordrad braced for impact as the creature stomped its foot to the ground, sending splinters of paving and cobblestone shards up at him. He covered his face and pulled the visor down on his helmet. This bought the monstrosity enough time to scream a summoning. The ground continued to split open where its foot had impacted. Dieter was poised to strike but waited and watched in fascination at this new event.

Tobias still kept unleashing bolts but they were ineffective, the wounds simply healed up with the protruding missiles still lodged in its daemonically infused undead flesh.

From the split in the ground came the massive hilt of a sword too large for a normal human sized creature to wield. This would have even been a challenge for an orc warboss! Xathrodox pulled the weapon from the ground as the others could sense the power coursing off of it.

Suddenly Maestro felt his sword's will yank towards the new weapon, pulling him forwards a little in the process. Maestro commented, "Are you insane? I believe you are! First you don't want any part of this thing, then you do. Well you're not getting me killed!"

Suddenly then, purple tinged black grasping hands pulled up from the ground and gripped the monster by its enormous legs.

"This has gone too far" spoke the newcomer. It was Gabrielle, the amethyst wizard.

The Khornite creature hissed at the magic that bound its legs and pulled them free of the spell anyway, by pulling the very ground up beneath it. It charged towards the female magister as she cast a spell towards it that dissipated before it could hit. She turned to leave but the monster called forth the will of Khorne and something odd happened. Bone began tearing up out of the ground shaping into a dome. It began covering them both like a bubble.

Rissandrea saw this and ran to get inside before it could close, noticing that the creature's wounds still kept healing themselves. It roared at the shallyan woman and caused a shockwave that knocked her backwards. It knew that she was the only threat to him and she had to be kept out at all costs. Then the bone prison was complete.

In amongst the overly long fused rib like structures were a number of skulls, they seemed to wordlessly chant some eternal warning to any who would approach.

Instinctively, Tordrad jammed his axe into one of the skulls, shattering it. There seemed to be an effect on the power outlining the gruesome dome.

Maestro caught on, as much as it disgusted him and he beat his staff against a nearby skull to him. The others began to follow suit as they heard a calamitous battle raging inside the dome, with the woman screaming in pain now and then. It didn't sound good at all – they all knew they would have to hurry or it would be too late.

Inside the barrier the amethyst wizard encanted special words of her order and began to draw from Morr's will to overcome the defenses surrounding this abomination, this abomination to death itself. A large scythe made from the made from the slightly purple ether that gathered around appered in her hands. The two combatants clashed in the centre of the dome the flesh seared and died where she slashed at it. Now Xathradox knew why she had called on this particular spell and knew beyond doubt he could not prolong such a fight.

Maestro spoke, "I would blast this thing, but it's so anti-magically drenched with his will that it would take longer than doing this."

Tobias nodded in understanding as he cracked another skull with his staff, hitting it repeatedly until it fell from the bone cage.

Inside the barrier, the last of the wizard's lifeforce drained from her body as the creature throttled her round the neck. She had been unable to cast any spells to free herself. The creature had an aura about it, a dampening field to her magic. The daemon prince pierced her chest with it's blade before alowing her to fall limp and lifeless to the ground. As it did so, the barrier exploded, sending shards of bone outward in all directions, cutting and grazing the party and bystanders/combatants nearby.

Tordrad stepped through the dust of the bone fragments, his vision obscured. Suddenly he was picked up by the beast and thrown at a nearby building. His armoured body smashed against the front door and it broke open on impact. The Kislev warrior lay there groaning for a moment until Maestro ran to him and tried pulling him back to his feet. He growled in his tongue, "I thought for a moment there that I might be free of you wizard, little chance of that then. It looks like you will have to get me killed another time perhaps."

Of course Maestro didn't understand a word of it but he pretended to anyway. He nodded and answered, "That's quite alright Tordrad, anything to help you, helps me." At least he was honest about it.

Rissandrea quickly ran past the men, into the house and disappeared upstairs. Meanwhile Dieter and Ulger fought furiously keeping the creature at bay. Suddenly though, it hit the doberman across the flank from its next jump attack and it fell moving no more. Dieter could sense it was still alive but that it had sustained damage. His rage boiled over and this caught the daemon's attention. It looked down at him suddenly and spoke, "Well well, what a curious one _you_ are. The others I expect do not know of you."

Dieter shifted uneasily on the spot then redoubled his efforts with a growl of determination aimed at Xathrodox. The unnatural thing continued to talk, "The undeath part of my form recognizes the undeath part of yours. Foolish mortal, to tamper with that which you do not understand. Now I see what you are!"

Dieter's eye widened in horror as the monster gripped its hand into a fist in front of the man. As he squeezed it and it tightened, seemingly squeezing thin air, the barriers that normally held Dieter's "other" in place were suddenly not enough. The power of the thing's undeath took over and Dieter collapsed to his knees, in front of the dead wizard Gabrielle. The would be physician's eyes rolled into the back of his head and the black tentacles once again streamed from his mouth. This time they clutched the wizard and began motioning down their length in a way to suggest that they were feeding. The thing inside was feeding on Gabrielle's essence and Dieter was powerless to stop it.

Tobias interrupted the satisfied grin on the daemon's face, with another well placed bolt, this time right into its temple. It must have punctured the thing's brain, but still the monster laughed at this attempt to stop it.

Rissandrea suddenly appeared at the top window of the building. She shouted to the others, "We need to do something right now before it is too late!"

Maestro wandered back out of the doorway trying his best to take Tordrad's weight on his shoulder. It was bending him sideways from the effort but he just about managed to reply, "But how can we kill that thing? It will only heal all we do to it!"

Rissandrea called back, "We don't have to kill it. We only have to damage it enough that it destabilizes from this realm and is banished."

Maestro answered, "But the healing, like I said, we cannot do it enough damage quickly enough."

Rissandrea replied, her face as serious as it had ever looked, "Then you shall have to have faith in Shallya, Maestro. Leave that problem to me."

"Right you are" said the wizard, glad he was not being involved with that particular problem.

150 years ago

The Celestial College

The seer magisters concentrated together as the battle unfolded. No notes would be allowed to be made, for such things were risky, a liability of finding their way into the wrong hands and endangering the threads of the future. Instead they had to concentrate and remember everything as exact to its course as possible. With this fight, they were taking no chances. All of them studied, internally checking for the smallest details.

They saw the wizard amongst the group, the stupid man, firing every spell he could muster into the daemon. The first did not even make contact, but with enough channeled effort, Maestro had found himself strong enough to get some spells through at last.

Rissandrea from her 2nd floor vantage point opened fire with redemption, shooting a hole through the creature's left cheek. Again, the burning area of the wound soon began to knit together. She simply fired again and again. Still, these shots were not enough to stop it.

Tordrad could feel the same internal presence that he felt before in front of this daemon, straining to get out. This time, he felt a lot less like he could control it. Some wild part of him responded to the daemon's challenging roar and the threat it posed to the party. He couldn't stop sweating…so hot, so uncontrollably hot! He quickly pulled his armour off. Maestro shouted, "What are you doing man? Are you looking to die?"

Still the Kislev warrior pulled his armour off and Maestro got fed up of shooting spells so swapped over to his hochland long rifle and opened fire.

Rissandrea let loose with redemption once more. The creature at last was within a weakened state, but still it regenerated.

"Now is the moment!" cried Rissandrea. She gave a run up and jumped from the window, out towards the courtyard the others stood in. She landed atop the creature's back and rested her gloved palms against its meaty undead flesh. She chanted a holy invocation to the mother of mercy and healing, to heal this poor creature's remains, to stop the torture of its various bodies. The area around the woman glowed with an intense bright light and the creature screamed in protest. It bucked and the woman fell from its hulking body, onto her side, where she damaged her ankle and leg. As she lay on the ground, she once again fired redemption at the beast. This time the wound did not knit itself together! This time none of the other wounds mended, and the ones that had been previously caused stopped their process of mending at once. Some of the wounds even tore back open.

The creature looked to the woman fiercely, its eyes focused on her, fallen as she was she was still the cause of it feeling pain, again. It would crush her and take her soul with it back to its home where it would feast slowly, but only after it had finished its business here. It decided to collect on the shallyan's soul right now though for sake keeping and strode towards her angrily.

Tordrad roared challengingly. Everyone turned to look, even Xathrodox. Though they had all heard the man do this before, this time was different. There was something real and bestial about it.

Suddenly Tordrad's features began to change. His eyes went wild. Hair began to sprout across his body. His musculature began altering. His skeleton began to shift. His facial formation began to change in structure, looking longer, a lengthened black nose at the end of a structure, inhumanly sharp teeth in his mouth growled fiercely. Tordrad looked half wracked in pain, half wreathed in rage as the full formation came about. Before everybody's eyes, the Kislevite man had turned into a massive hulking bear!

This had happened to him once before in his life. He prayed it would not happen again. He hoped it was a dream, but it had not been. Whether he liked it or not, he had been blessed or cursed by Ursun, the Kislevite Hunter God. His parents knew from a young age for they had seen the signs but had kept it quiet from the others of their town. They feared that he would become feared, an outsider, even if it may have truly been a blessing.

But now, the full might of Tordrad could be seen. The bear sped forwards, thudding the cobbles with its great paws as it went. As it made contact, it crashed its weight against the unholy monster knocking it's great sword from it's hand and sending it bouncing with sparks across the ground. There the two of them lashed at each other in a primal battle.

Neither Rissandrea nor Maestro could use their ranged attacks anymore and the shallyan woman was in no condition to drag herself over to the battle so they could only watch.

Tobias too was powerless to act now, with only a slingshot and crossbow in hand, for the sun had not gone down and given way to his more melee focused alter ego…

The two great beasts were tearing each other apart but Tordrad was getting the better of his foe, for now.

Dieter finally came back to his senses and stood to his feet. He turned around purposely and walked calmly towards the daemonic monster that tussled with the Kislevian bear. He summoned an internal will and the winds of magic kicked up. Even Maestro noticed this. The black shadowy tendrils were receding and an eerie calm look was on the trainee physician's face. He spoke aloud, "So, control me will you? Make him take control of me will you? This…will…not…pass."

Dieter dropped to his knees and began chanting, the words were complex and spiraling. Even Maestro couldn't fully understand this passage, but he did know magic when he heard it. Dieter was casting a magical spell! _He's a wizard!_

Dieter no longer cared about hiding it. He was too angry at the insult. He recited the lines of a strange daemonic tongue. He knew this, because the daemon's eyes blazed upon hearing it. "Nooooooo" it shouted, "I will end you!"

The creature desperately strained to break free of the massive bear, but Tordrad's animalistic form was too much for him in this weakened state now. The bear's teeth were firmly clamped around the daemon's neck. Xathradox tugged and tugged to pull itself free and began tearing the very flesh away from its body as it did so. It managed to pull itself along the ground, away from the bear. The bear dug its front claws into the creature's legs and held on to stop him in place. A tussle of strength took place as the creature had almost neared Dieter's position, for the man had walked close to the battle himself previously.

It was too late though, the final words were recited at last and Xathrodox began to scream in pain as he turned into red smoke before their eyes. As he did this, the hulking creature's body cavity caved in, released from the new burdened energy it had been filled with.

The daemon's final words were cold and troubling though, "Evil still walks amongst you. The evil that suspended me will kill all of you!"

And then all was normal. Tordrad was even back to normal, albeit a lot more naked than when he'd started the fight. He was very quiet about the entire thing that evening.

Blitzal's party had managed to dispose of the other creature as well. The attack on Nuln had been well and truly subverted. Not stopped of course, never stopped…as the mage seer inside the Celestial College 150 years prior observed the group spoke aloud to the others present watching the images before them, "For the evils that persist in our time, shall persist in their time too – and the times to come after that. The world shall know only war. It shall define its healing only by its wounds. It shall define its good deeds only by the evils that oppose. It shall employ heroes only in the measure of that which is needed…and sometimes…sometimes fellow magister sirs, it shall employ a band of heroes that are unwanted but most _certainly_ needed. The worst is yet to come though." Spoke Viez finally.

The others agreed like a flock of sheep. For even with future sight, when the vision of that which is still to come is certain, will all still be uncertain for the final outcome. The true meaning behind the gains and losses will only be known by those who experience it in their own time. It was something that the party would just have to be patient and wait for, for now…


	29. Chapter 29

**Their Fated Travels…**

_RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle_

Chapter 29

Due Consequences

In a dark far corner of the Reaver's Return Inn of Nuln, the party sat around a table with heads hung low. There was a definite feeling of deflation amongst the group. They had hardly spoke or made eye contact. Each just nursed their own drinks, deep in their own thoughts.

Ulger too picked up on this and made a debilitated sulking sound as he rested his large head on his front paws. His injuries were still clear to see, but the banadages were holding well. He had not tried to lick the wounds, after Dieter had scolded him once. Once had been enough.

Finally the one person who couldn't understand them and who they couldn't understand was the one to break the silence, as Tordrad said, "Yes I was bear again. I would know of you now if you hold this power...this curse in my blood against me."

Rissandrea had gleaned somewhat of an understanding from the look in the man's eyes, plus she had also seen the transformation. Furthermore, what else could he be possibly speaking about? She considered. She spoke and laid a comforting hand on the large man's shoulder, "Do not worry of this Tordrad, though I see by your face that it pains you so – do not worry. Some of us are granted divine guidance from time to time so that we may do what is right. It is not like you used it for ill, after all."

Maestro spoke up next, "But it makes you think though, how long he's known he could do that. I wonder if he can do it on demand!"

Though the corner was dark, the halfling Tobias sat nearest the lantern on the wall. He shook his head dismissively and closed the book he was pretending to read then spoke, "I highly doubt that. Humans who transform into animals are a known quality within this world but were he simply of the blood cursed ones he would transform at regular intervals. We have been with him for a long time now. We would have seen it previously, before now at least. No, I believe it came on from stress, the great threat that creature posed."

Rissandrea nodded, "I concur on this. I do not think we should consider this a bad thing by any account. The will of the Kislevian Gods are in his veins perhaps. I don't think he can control it, but at least the beast that emerged wasn't out of control. It didn't attack us or innocents."

Tordrad stared, his head turning from speaker to speaker. He knew each was talking about him but he didn't know what they were saying. Anastasia was out visiting the market so she would be no help translating. Plus he knew that she would never be truly honest about what they were saying anyway.

Rissandrea spotted Tordrad looking at them and quickly said, "Come look everyone, Tordrad is becoming dismayed at being spoken about. Nod your heads and smile approvingly. All he needs is a little security that we don't judge him badly."

The others except Dieter complied in doing this. Dieter simply raised a hand and waved it in a couple of circles to indicate – yeah yeah, blah blah whatever. To Tordrad, the trainee doctor's actions were most welcoming. For Dieter to not be bothered was a good sign. It was like nothing had changed, for the man was mostly always unmoved by the events of the group.

Tobias was next to speak, "Recent events have had a sharp impact upon all of us. I still have the matter of my ongoing mental health, or the attempts towards it contined security anyway. I still have no knowledge of becoming an alter ego as you say I do. Though I am starting to remember being this person when I was younger. The things I did wrong then...perhaps the best thing for me to do is to face up to it. If I can revisit some link of the past then maybe I can re-connect my psyche to my existence."

Dieter scoffed.

Tobias looked at him sharply, "What is it Death?"

Dieter growled his response, "De'ath, how hard is it to say De'ath? You're doing it to annoy me. Not advisable. I will remember every time you've said it and when I punish you for it, it will just be all the worse.

Tobias shrugged with his usual disdain and Dieter, knowing that he'd do that simply continued, "You have a piece of warpstone in your brain. Nothing will change that, idiot. Now, I suggest you simply let me attempt to operate on it, like I asked before."

Rissandrea spoke up, "And I already told you Dieter, the chances of success for such a procedure are slight at the very least. The dangers to his life would be innumerable. Full contingency would be impossible."

Dieter raised a hand to silence the woman who was getting on his nerves now, "Well, it would all be positive really, I have had a distinct lack of corpses to practice on since arriving at the city."

Rissandrea turned away sickened.

Tobias used this point as a boarding plank for the next point, "And what of you, Death? The secrets you have kept from us all this time."

Dieter stared at Tobias long and silently. There was a sudden intensity at the table, as if the halfling's life was suddenly in peril, as if Dieter might suddenly act upon some dark desire. His eyes certainly burned with hate for his smaller party companion. Eventually the strained silence was ended as the man spoke abruptly, taking them all by surprise, "That is...complicated...I do not know how to start."

Tobias looked up his nose at the human and said, "From the beginning."

Dieter scowled at him again and then sighed, "All right, it seems as good a place as any to start. I do not know much of who I am. That is the truth. My father was never known and my mother died in childbirth...so I am told. I have no idea who my extended family are. I was somehow raised on the streets. I heard tale that the homeless would take care of me, like one of their own. I suppose I did become one of them. I have some early memory of being a begging stealing urchin in the streets."

Rissandrea nodded with genuine interest, her spectacles reflected a light which drew attention to her kind eyes, "the streets of where?"

Dieter answered, "Stirland...well, Sylvania really, but yes, Stirland..."

"Ah replied Tobias, "near to my home then, the Moot."

Dieter stared at the halfling disrespectfully, "Yes, don't remind me please."

Rissandrea smiled reassuringly at Dieter, this made him shudder inside but he tried his best to hide it as she asked, "Sylvania is a place in much need of the good lady's aid. The soldiers of that county are braver than most. I respect their desire to end the darkness. What part of Sylvania do you hail from?"

"Drakenhof" replied Dieter casually.

Tordrad almost spat his vodka out...almost. He swallowed it quickly and almost choked and said while pointing, "Vampire place?"

Dieter narrowed his eyes menacingly at the larger man. This didn't bother Tordrad at all as Dieter replied, "It's rude to point. No, not the castle...why does everyone always think of the castle? The nearby _town_ of Drakenhof."

"I don't know" began Maestro, "As soon as you say that, it's pretty hard not to think of that castle. It's probably just fear. The human condition of survival."

"You would know all about that" started Tobias menacingly towards Maestro. The wizard went a little red and buried his face in his tall glass of milk.

Dieter continued, "There is a great deal of my younger life that too is sketchy. I'm sure you don't really want to know about my upbringing though do you?"

Tobias answered bluntly, "Not really, I think the thing we are all concerned about Death, is the black tentacles that came from your mouth as you appeared to be consuming Gabrielle – that and the madness that overcame you in the skaven battle."

Dieter sighed and breathed deeply and then he began, " I suppose I do indeed owe you some explanation of what is going on then. So be it. I will tell you what I understand of it. I have a dark presence inside of me. That is what you saw. It has been there for as long as I can remember. A dark evil spirit that haunts me. It will not let me be truly free. Sometimes if my life is threatened, it will take over. This has only been happening so regularly lately. It's like...it is becoming harder to hold it in check. I am...truly frightened of this thing. I don't know what it is or how it came to be inside of me."

The man's words came across even and calm. It sounded like he was telling the truth and they did not believe he was lying to them – even though Dieter was witholding certain other bits of information...

Tobias's face switched to an expression of questioning doubt, "But why did you...did it do what it did to Gabrielle's body? Did you want her dead? Did it know this?"

The man continued, "Of course I didn't wish her any harm! I needed her! While we were on the barge, I consulted with her, confided in her about my problem. I told her that something of the realms of the dead haunted me. She was an amethyst wizard, closer to the aspect of death than many, yet skilled in the arts of magic too. It was my hope that she would work with me in uncovering and removing this...entity."

Maestro asked, "Are we in any danger do you think? From this thing? Even right now?"

Dieter sighed again, "Look," he started and closed his eyes as the muscles in his eyebrows pinched closer together - he continued, "Magister Gabrielle agreed to help me. She said that study of my condition would require me to be observed for at least two weeks solid. I told her that I could not spare the time until this group's investigation into the final artifact was complete. This of course piqued her interest in the case and led her to investigate the trails of the artifact as well – which of course led her to being present at the final battle with the daemon..."

Rissandrea made the sign of the holy order at the memory of this event.

Dieter continued, "So you see, I even forsook my own wellbeing for the furtherment of this group's cause. So no, you are not in any danger as far as I am aware. Even when it took control of me in a combatitive state against the skaven, did I turn on you? No it did not. It fought them. I have that to be thankful for at least."

"Not as much as us" stated Maestro.

Tobias chimed in, "True enough, I can support Death here in saying that when he was fully posessed by this entity of undeath as he calls it, I witnessed elements of his strange actions before unconsciousness took me. He actually managed to save Tordrad from the rat men, erm I mean beast men assassins."

Dieter spoke firmly but with a sense of sadness that was unlike him, "I do not want this thing inside of me. I am am unwilling host. But it doesn't define me! You've seen who I am. I am all of that despite it. It is what it is aside from me. We are not the same. I am sure, if you feel it would be safer to not journey with me then by all means stop. And if you feel you would want to turn me in to the city guard or the witch hunters, for only trying my best to protect this party, to protect all of you then I will not try to force your hand otherwise. But please, do me the kindness of at least considering my plight before you over-react."

Dieter waited. As the moments passed and no one spoke out against him he smiled internally, hoping that none of it could be seen on the outside. His powers of suggestion were working strongly. The entire table was at least in some part minorly still under his influence.

Maestro challenged this somewhat as he asked, "But what of the magical spells you've been casting? You did not tell us you were a wizard, albeit a hedge wizard."

Tordrad's ears pricked up at this and he leaned forward intently, gripping his axe under the table.

Dieter became nervous at this and tried his best to hide it as he responded, "I suppose you could call me a hedge wizard yes, but not by choice. I don't know I am casting these spells. In fact, I do not believe I am casting them at all. I think the creature inside of me is doing it. He is the caster! Everything I have ever witnessed him do though has been to the benefit of the group. I assure you, were he to do anything that I felt went against any of you, threatened any of you in any way I would remove myself from you at once, permanently if need be."

Tobias rubbed his chin in thought, "Well, there is some support for this, as I have never seen Dieter's lips move to incant the winds of magic as one might. Nor have I seen any gestures or weavings on his part."

Maestro made a face of realisation at this and bowed his head in agreeance then spoke, "And my empathic channel never picked up on a lick of it either. I've never once had some spooky bizzare shadow or ghastly black tendrils come out instead of my own spell. That is the reason I do not travel with a wizard after all, for I would be influence by him after long enough. I am not with you."

Rissandrea nodded inteligently to all of what was being said and finally spoke to the rest of the party, "I truly do not believe Dieter is the enemy of this group. In fact, when I see him in battle, fighting side by side with all of you, I see how eager he is to protect his team. I truly believe what he says." She then turned gratiously towards Dieter so as to not be rude and not leave him out as she spoke, "It is clear that you are the victim. We must be sympathetic to your ordeal. Were the witch hunters to get involved, you would probably be put to death. A victim of a crime, in this case a spiritual crime should not be the one punished. The victim should be supported. The best place to gain that support is the church. We must let the divine powers attempt to heal him before we discard him to the wolves. How does that proposition sit with you all?"

Tordrad looked at the others of the group, starting to get the gist of the topic.

Maestro spoke first, "No problem here. Like we figured, this thing is inside of Dieter, it isn't who he is. We owe it to him to help him get rid of it. Though I do think you should have said something before."

Dieter lowered his head and replied, "And for that I apologise. I did not have faith in all of you enough to know for certain that you would try to help me rather than turn me in."

Maestro piped up cheerily in response, "Plus If there's any sign of chaos that Tordrad doesn't like, he will probably kill you himself or turn into a big bear and bite your head off."

"Thankyou for the comforting words" came Dieter's reply. Everyone axcept Maestro couldn't tell if the man was being sarcastic or not, as was usual with Dieter. But Maestro simply didn't pick up on it in the first place, as was usual with Maestro.

Tobias answered next, "Your dog is not scared of you. An animal has senses far keener than any halfling, so I will judge by Ulger's example thus far and simply continue to watch your actions carefully."

At the mention of his name, Ulger looked up with a thoughtful look, instinctively knowing they were talking about him.

Tobias continued, "Though I will add, if I see something I do not like, I will report it to the authorities at the first chance I get. Are we clear, Death?"

Dieter paused long enough to stop himself making an angry remark at his name's wrong pronunciation then finally said, "crystal clear Tobias..."

Rissandrea smiled and added, "I will lead the investigation to root out what is wrong with you Dieter. As soon as I have the resources and position to instigate an appropriate investigatory procedure within the church establishment. I say appropriate because this particular case would require a number of resources that I would not be able to gain access to without alerting suspicion. Even the church of Shallya if it feared your actions may alert the city watch to stand on guard to protect themselves. That though is not the way of the Vhor sub-sect. And it is to that end that I have news for you all." The others looked at Rissandrea intently as she continued, "I will be leaving this party."

This created a number of shocked faces. Even Dieter's mouth dropped open.

The shallyan devotee continued, "I have returned to the place of my birth, having followed the will of my lady here. I have re-united myself with friends that I knew years ago. They are now members of the church here. But the vhor sub-sect holds no sway over this place. I believe that when Shallya gave me her insight, that she was giving blessing to the Vhor principle of thinking. I feel she has tasked me to create a vhor sect church here in Nuln, just as there is one in Altdorf. To do this, will take time, money and a lot of hard work. Therefore I must remain here to achieve this goal. While doing this, I can continue to persue my learning too and discover what power might lay within these hands, so that I may one day gift upon another, life and hope in the darkest of encounters where previously I would have been able to offer neither. I do not want to lose another living person again, knowing that Shallya willed his life essence to continue but that I am not up to the task."

Maestro spoke quickly, "But who will heal us on the road? In all of the bloody dangerous scrapes we get into?"

Dieter replied, "I am a doctor in training too you know...and I will even throw in a nice shave at no extra cost."

This did not convince the wizard at all. Firstly because he was starting to become rather attached to his beard, or rather it was becoming attached to him at the very least, like beards usually would. That and the thought of Dieter with a cuthroat razor in his hand hovering over him...it just didn't sit well with him somehow. It seemed these new revelations would be hard for him to completely swallow. But he would go along with Rissandrea's wishes, for now at least, or at least until it looked like Dieter might actually become a danger to him.

Tobias's face fell, "We will miss you, m'lady."

Rissandrea put a hand on the halfling's face, "Oh Tobias, I hate to leave you too. I implore you to stay with me and let me heal the scars you have endured. I am sure the others can go on without you. My assessment is that you need therapy. If we are staying put, I will be in a strong position to give just that."

Tobias answered, "I go where I am sent ma'am. The Emperor willed me here...because of Maestro. There is still a great matter I must preside over and it will affect the world. That is the will of the Emperor and the highest magisters of the Celestial College Seers. My wellbeing comes second to the needs of the world."

"Oh poor brave Tobias", I will not be able to convince you, I see that now. But as soon as you are free of your shackles, come to me. Do you promise me that? Even your wife can stay in Nuln while I treat you here".

Tobias smiled at the thought of a future far removed from the neccasities of duty, "Of course. I will oblige you gratefully when that day comes."

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 119

I am uncomfortable with this. As a full magister of the order, it is my duty to tell the College of any hedge wizards I encounter, so that the correct enforcers might be summoned to apprehend them.

Hedge wizards are dangerous, they tell us. Being one is a dangerous offence indeed. The counter argument is that Dieter is not a magical caster at all. The point they are making is that the thing inside of him has the power. Tonight I saw an example of this, to verify it.

I saw Dieter exhibiting aura essences of the amethyst order. I know for a fact that a hedge wizard would not be able to summon that energy about his person. Then I remembered where he had encountered the lore of death...Gabrielle. Yes, the creature inside has feasted on her in some way, I truly believe that, and now it has absorbed some of that power. This goes some way to making me believe him now...

I will follow the advice of Tobias. If that meddlesome halfling isn't going to turn Dieter in, I'm sure as heck not going to be considered more uptight than him!

Extract from the diary of Rissandrea:

Day 119

The others have stumbled upon an illegal gambling and fighting arena. One of the city watch showed them it and now it seems they want to attend. It also seems they want to take part...If I go with them, it will be to heal those who are wounded...what a foolish idea. I can understand that they want to let off some steam, but this surely cannot be a good idea, at any time!

Extract from the diary of Maestro:

Day 119

Now, I wouldn't normally go along with this sort of thing, but the guards are even in on this so there's no winning. In fact, running away now might cause suspician...oh my. It looks like I will have to put a few bets on then...to not stand out of course...Of course I'm not going to take part myself. I wouldn't stand inside a fighting arena letting someone beat my face in.

Exctract from the diary of Tordrad:

Day 119

This is good! I want to fight in this. I have signed up for fighting tournament. I want to see how strong men of this Empire are.

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 119

We discovered the fighting pit inside a warehouse on the docks district. When you go into the warehouse, you lift a section of the floor up to reveal stairs that lead down. There is no chance of anyone finding it down here.

I will be taking notes of all of this of course, then I will tell the authorities about it...

Extract from the diary of Dieter:

Day 119

I have surprised everyone by saying that I am signing up for the tournement. I don't see a reason why this is unusual, although I suppose based on what they know of me I can see why they would be. They don't really know what I'm about, this group.

I went to test myself against the others of this city. I want to feel the good honest taste of blood in my mouth, be it my own from being struck or my opponent's if I bite him.

The others do not know what is going to hit them. Even if I don't win, I will make them remember me...

Extract from the diary of Tobias:

Day 120

The night of round one is finally here...Yes, at first I thought I could pick their pockets while they watch, but no. They have given most of their money up as bets. Damn. There's only one thing left for it. I'm pretty handy with my fists. I'll just have to compete in this fighting arena too!

((Thanks for staying with the story. Why not vote for your fav character on the poll at or the following warhammer forum sites: Chamber of the Everchosen, Da Warpath, The Herdstone, Bugman's Brewery, The Daemonic Legion and Warseer. Remember, to vote in the poll on , you can even access it via my user profile. Winners announced when the story as a whole concludes soon.))


	30. Chapter 30

**Their Fated Travels…**

_RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle_

Chapter 30

The Fighting Pit

Round One

The arena the contestents were battling in was a simple circular pit dug out into the earth. The mud floor and walls were hardened solid. Some straw and sawdust lined down there. After bouts if there had been a reasonably large amount of blood or "meat" left behind, it was easier to sweep it up. Then new layering was scattered on the ground before the next fight.

The spectators were in a viewing position behind a medium height metal runged barricade. It wasn't tall enough to stop somebody from actually climbing over and into the room. It just served as a reminder, a suggestion to not do it. Several heavily armoured guards who looked as mean as could be stood dotted about the crowd and on the opposite side of the barrier too. Furthermore, a particularly anti-social looking messy bearded dwarf sat cross legged on a high platform nearby, with a rifle in his hand. While fights would take place, he would often sight spectators up, his tongue poking out in concentration of his target finding - almost willing them to step out of line and interfere with a bout. Nobody did.

The rules for the illegal tournament were simple: Two competetors fight until one is either killed, rendered unconscious and unresponsive to the referee or submits verbally or by way of "tapping out" with their hand. Any weapon is permitted and anything goes. No holds barred.

The final element to it was the owner of the arena, a long wild haired kooky wizard. He wore robes but they were of no distinctive order. They were more personalized for comfort and fashion. He held in his hand a trumpet looking device connected to a lever. Inside the machine several wheels and pivots interacted with spindles that spun in response. However, the spindles did not weave fibers into thread like one might find in sewing. These spindles spun sound about them and amplified it through the listening end of the strange contraption. Maestro stared at the machine in envy. This was the kind of thing he wished he had invented. An engineered device that was completely original in concept and enhanced by magic. He ached to have hold of it in his hands, so that he might tinker with it.

The wizard owner of the device would use it by pointing it at a competitor's left side of the chest and listening. The amplified device would register if a heartbeat was present or not. The audible sound came out quite loud, to Maestro's surprise.

This was a truly effecient fighting ring, they observed.

The competitors came out through a portcullis set off to one side and through a passage that led down into the pit. Once inside, a heavy sliding barrier would be pulled across blocking the way back out.

First out to fight, funnily enough was Tordrad. The Kislev warrior wore his full armour and brought his great axe with him.

Maestro's spluttered at seeing this, realising only now that Tordrad might actually be in danger. If Tordrad died here, what might happen to him? How would he get out? These people in this place were big, brawny and smelly. He commented nervously to Rissandrea, "It looks like they're trying to kill us off early!"

The woman turned her head in disgust at this idea. She very much disliked the fact that the others were doing this. Maestro was only making things worse.

Tordrad's opponent was then announced: Frederick Wilwart...

As Tobias heard this from his position in the backrooms he commented, "Wait a minute, did he just say Frederick?"

Dieter looked at Tobias and replied, "Oh no, not another halfling short arse."

Tobias stared in bewilderment, "I didn't even know my brother was still alive!"

Dieter commented, "And you always try to dissuade me from saying that you must all know each other, telling me it's racsist to speak like that. Then what do you go and do but help inforce it?"

Tobias shook his head in disbelief, "I hope Tordrad doesn't kill him. I want to talk to him. I need to find out what he did next...I need to..."

Dieter replied with his usual dark sarcasm, "Oh don't worry, whatever ails him after this match even death, a couple of pies shoved into his face and he'll be back to sorts."

"Is that your medical opinion, doctor?"

Dieter replied, "Yeah, why not?"

Frederick was dressed in the dark colours that Tobias tended to favour in his night time mode. Then he drew two daggers and rushed towards Tordrad. His natural swipe was at Tordrad's leg level as the blades scratched against the armour doing no damage to the man underneath. Tordrad really hadn't taken his foes speed into account and he was surprised to find him upon him so fast.

Tordrad wasn't going to make the same mistake twice as he quickly stepped forwards to close the gap as the halfling tried to pull back. The kislev man went on the offensive, swinging his axe at the halfling in a blaze of multiple strikes. The metal end of the weapon caught the light of the torches many times and at times made it look like he was wielding a firey weapon.

The halfling dodged many of the attacks, his speed and agility were great, but Tordrad was too expertly martial. His axe began raking the halfling, tearing through his chest and cutting his arm quite badly. Blood violently ran from the wound as he tried his best to pull away.

Frederick pulled a throwing dagger free from his belt with his good arm he threw it at Tordrad's face.

Tordrad watched in surprise as it almost struck him directly. He moved a little at the last moment as it trailed past, scratching a great trail through his cheek. The Kislev warrior had not thought to bring his helmet with him. This wound would definitely scar, it was that bad. All of this though, only served to make the man angry as he charged Frederick with a great battle cry that nearly deafened those closest to the ring. As he connected, he swung the axe at the halfling but instead of going in blade first, he swung the flat of it. It connected with his smaller opponent, impacting head on and knocked him backwards against the built up wall of the ring. There he struck his head against the hard mud and fell forwards, unmoving after hitting the ground.

Tordrad had pulled his killing blow. He didn't want to have to kill people if not required. He simply then looked to an official to hint that they should check on the man's status. Somebody did just that, inspecting his condition. Frederick was declared as unconscious.

Tordrad was the victor.

Maestro was another step closer to collecting large winnings. He had bet a good deal on his bodyguard to win the whole tournament contest.

Next out to fight was a local wannabe, a Nuln man trying to make a name for himself, impress his friends and improve his social standing.

As his opponent was brought out to the ring, a repeating wave of controversial gasps went up through the crowd. A blonde haired dwarf slave had been tied to a large wooden flat upright platform on wheels, and was being pushed out to the ring while he he made no effort to struggle against his restraints. He barely looked conscious in fact and not in the best of health.

His handlers were a shady group of cloaked ne'r do wells if ever there was.

It was clear that the dwarf was their slave, their property.

Rissandrea noticed that the dwarf's skin looked far paler than it ought to and he was sweating unnaturally too. She figured that he must have been under the effects of some toxin or drug. Either currently or in withdrawal from it.

The handlers then surprised the audience a second time as one of them drew a dagger and slashed at the dwarf's exposed arm, because of the torn shirt he wore. He wore very little in the way of clothing, only this and some torn trousers, that looked more like shorts. He wore nothing on his feet and had no armour.

"Incredible" said Maestro, "He's taking damage before the battle has begun."

Rissandrea winced and left the wizard's side to see what help she could offer to Frederick out back. Gaining access to him now he had been eliminated wasn't very hard – and being a member of the shallyan order gave her easier pass.

One of the handlers then produced a pallete of strangely bright red and yellow coloured paste then with a spatula smeared it onto the wound! The paste was a compound of crushed mad cap mushrooms!

The dwarf's eyes suddenly snapped open, blood red in appearance, almost like that of a goblin.

The handlers untied most of his restraints but before they could remove the last of them, the dwarf snapped through them on his own. The handlers began running as fast as they could behind the dwarf.

The slave dwarf began screaming in frustration and went for one of the handlers. Someone within the security section managed to pull him up out of the ring. The dwarf's head suddenly snapped around towards his opponent and he pulled two large stone battlehammers out from the wide and thick leather toolbelt he wore on his waist. He charged the shocked man like a rampaging bull, his hammers swinging at lightning speed.

The Nuln man made a futile attempt to parry with his sword as one hammer struck him at the weapon and crashed against his arm on the follow through. The other hammer followed up hard into the man's chest. Then two more shots did the man suffer. His ribs had broken and punctured inwards into his lung. Various other sources of damage had come about as he dropped his weapon. However, the man did not have the sense of mind to submit as the mad dwarf then grabbed him by his protruding rib, pulling him straight towards him before headbutting him with a force like an Ogre's club. The sickening crunch sound made many in the audience jeer, cheer or go a bit off colour. He then bit a lump out of the man's face and spat it back at him.

It was clear to see the man was dead now and the dwarf simply wouldn't let up. He kept striking the man so that he remained standing. His body couldn't fall from the force of the upward blows.

The officials decided to give up on trying to retrieve the man's body just yet and instead concentrated on moving the audience back, especially when the dwarf became bored of the corpse that didn't fight back and walked around the edge of the pit looking for his next victim.

The winner was announced as Grimdal DalDuraz.

Eventually the dwarf's energy was spent and the high effects of the drug wore off. He fell to the floor again, his malnourished body unable to support his newly elevated state of being for too long.

The next bout was announced as a competitor who hailed from the moot. A supposed scholar who had taken up arms to compete in this competition. Tobias Wilwart.

Out came Tobias, wielding a dagger and dressed in his skaven looted black leather armour.

His opponent was announced. It was a master wizard, Maestro could tell, one who appeared to be conjuring the lore of shadows about him, the grey wind of ulgu.

Maestro observed that this would be a contest of magic versus an individual highly trained in anti magic. But would that be enough he wondered?

Tobias dashed towards the wizard, moving from side to side in a zig-zag pattern. All of this movement did not protect him from stepping into a shadow caused by an overhanging beam however...As soon as the halfling's foot entered the darkened spot he froze to the spot, restricted.

The wizard smiled and cast a second spell, the first hadn't even been noticed! This spell made the halfling's feet begin to smoke and then flame tore up around it, catching the great tufts of hair present on fire.

With great willpower, the currently rogue minded Tobias managed to tear himself free of the effect but all he could do was hop about in pain even after the flames had been put out. Standing still was difficult for him.

While the halfling nursed his poor foot with one hand, the wizard prepared another spell by channelling.

At that moment, Tobias tore into a sprint taking the magister Taros by surprise. Just as he reached the grey wizard it was clear that he had a garrote string in his hands! He had used the moment of nursing his foot to discreetly draw this weapon.

The sudden appearance of the halfling at great speed left Taros dumbfounded and then Tobias kicked the man squarely between the legs. A low blow that made the audience wince in pain at the thought of it. The wizard screamed his reaction and bent over holding himself in response.

Tobias ran the garrote around the man's neck and pulled quickly, a tight hold that made Taros let go of his aching groin and forced him to attempt to tug against being strangled. Blood was already beginning to drip from where the wire made contact with the wizard's skin.

Taros couldn't break free of the garrote. The halfling's grip was too focused and the human was bent over so couldn't put his full strength into the counter to push the halfling off.

Suddenly the wizard disappeared in a puff of smoke, re-appearing on the other side of the ring, trails of smoke leading from where he stood before to where he now stood. Tobias coughed and hacked at the offensive magical taste it left in his mouth. He then wondered how he recognised the test of magic but dropped that thought as Taros once again cast a spell.

Tobias was doing well to keep away from the areas of shadow around him, however with this spell, the shadows would not wait for him to come to them. The shadows moved in on him from all sides. He saw this and jumped to get over them, but where he landed, only shadows awaited him. They travelled up his body and constricted him about the neck, choking him. The halfling was now having a taste of his own medicine!

Tobias could not break free. Everything he tried he failed. He tried to take his sling out of his pocket but the binding darkness kept his arm firmly at his side.

Very soon the halfling became drowzy on his feet and then dropped to the ground. Soon after this the wizard let the shadows recede back to their natural placements as Tobias was declared unconscious.

Dieter couldn't help but snigger at the situation. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he hated the moot born team mate.

The next match saw a convict fighting to win his bail money for release up against a slave who fought desperately with a sword he didn't seem to be able to use properly. The slave had a hunched back and soon the cause of this was seen. One of the attacks from the convinct had ripped his shirt and exposed something strange growing from the slave's back. A mutation! This man was a mutant. A pulsing organ could be seen there.

The audience murmoured disapprovingly. Surely a mutant couldn't be allowed to live? How was he even being allowed to compete? But then it had to be remembered, this was an illegal tournament.

The slave somehow managed to get a lucky shot in, striking the convinct to the belly and slicing him open. He submitted and screamed for medical attention. This got the crowd cheering again, at least. But as the mutant was led away, he left to the sound of booing and jeering. The audience were beginning to relax again though and were enjoying the bouts.

Next up was a sewer jack who had made dirty dealings with the skaven he had encountered. He came out victorious against a Nuln man who fancied his chances as a big shot. The jack was also the bookies favourite for taking the entire tournament prize away with him tonight. The man was unable to stand up to the sewer jack's crossbow bolt shots and cried for a healer after two impails of his body.

Next out was a captured doombull! Somehow, a hero minataur had managed to get captured by humans and was now being led by the ring through its nose. It had been somewhat sufficiently drugged to keep it under control.

His opponent was a professional ring fighter. The doombull had charged and picked the man up over his head and charged him across the ring, into the opposite wall. He was stunned long enough to be unable to defend himself as the doombull began eating the man alive. This made some of the audience vomit in response.

Another local fighter had attended the tournament and he fought against a noble. No ordinary noble at that, but a cousin to the Countess Emmanuelle. The noble managed to disarm his foe using his rapier against the other man's shortsword. He held the rapier's end to the man's throat and offered him a way out. The local man greatfully accepted it, submitting the bout.

Next was a Stirland mercenary. He had been passing through the city and heard about the tournament. His opponent was announced: Dieter De'ath!

Before he even stepped out into the ring, Dieter cast a magical armour about himself and then conjured a new spell. A purple and black magical scythe, the like of which Gabrielle had previously used appeared in Dieter's hand. He was unused to casting this new spell, a spell he had been given access to thanks to his other's consumption of an amethyst wizard recently – and as such there was a minor magical backlash too, lessening down his own winds of magic.

Dieter was wearing his longer coat, and a frilled shirt that came up high about his neck to cover his burns.

Dieter took his jacket off and stepped on it. His shoe broke the glass container of medicinal alcohol he kept inside it. He then called for the man to attack who did just that.

The merc charged forward with a maddened glee in his eyes. Dieter managed to duck under the attack and put his now slightly flaming spell hand on the jacket, setting it alight. He spun and slashed the man with the magically summoned scythe. The stirland man touched his hand to the wound and tasted it, with a look of satisfaction on his face. The man slashed at Dieter and just caught his arm as he pulled away. Dieter too smiled at the pain he felt. He considered that together they were sharing something beautiful.

Dieter gripped the man by the wrist and focused the magical flame from the palm of his own hand to burn the mercenary's skin. He tried to let go and strained with his might against the trainee doctor, but Dieter would not let go. His grip was for some reason impossibley strong.

The merc headbutted Dieter, forehead to upper nose bridge. This dazed Dieter but still he did not let the man's wrist go!

Then, he suddenly did let the man go. Instead, he dropped his jacket to the floor in front of the man, with the bottle's contents spilling out further into the slightly smouldering jacket.

Dieter channeled his magical energy to focus the scythe powerfully and brought the summoned weapon down upon the jacket on the ground, making sure he struck it on one of its rather large metal buttons. This caused a spark which caused an explosion.

The bottle that had been kept in the jacket had had oil and gunpowder added to their mixture. Dieter ran away quickly as the exposion under the man's feet caught him in a shroud of flame. His charred body struck the ground suddenly and violently.

Dieter had somehow gotten away unscathed as the victor. The man was unable to survive his major burns. Even some of the audience had suffered some heat across their skin and a few embers of staying whisps of flaming material that made their way outwards.

Dieter cheered his own victory in front of a stunned crowd. Within moments they chorused him with cheers of their own. It seemed that he had won them over as a crowd favourite. Not only that, but he was through to the next round!


	31. Chapter 31

**Their Fated Travels…**

_RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle_

Chapter 31

The Fighting Pit

Round Two

The next round started with a local pit fighter champion up against the dreaded doom bull captive. Even though it was weakened from its recent months of enslavement it was still a powerful enemy.

The pitfighter wasted no time by sticking his spear, part thrust part throw into the belly of the massive creature. It seems that this only angered the doom bull, as it raised its large weapon and brought it down towards its foe.

The pitfighter managed to dodge out of the way but had to abandon his spear in doing so. The offending weapon was still sticking out from the creature's stomach.

The doombull then snapped the spear in half as if it was a stick, leaving one end still lodged into it and threw the other at the quickly side peddling fighter. The man was agile and aware enough of this situation. He moved out of the way easily dodging the attack and readied a new weapon to fight with.

The doom bull lowered its head and snorted a bellowing challenge. The pit fighter roared back, less an attempt to intimidate his foe (as he knew he had no chance of doing that) but more to enforce his own courage.

The bull creature came at him full charge! It wasn't going to give the human a chance to decide on his next weapon with care.

The man reached out instinctively and grabbed the creature's large horns as the momentum of the beast pushed his feet into a slide backwards along the ground towards the built up mud wall that was quickly closing in. He had no choice in the matter. He didn't have the strength to repel this thing so he jumped off of the ground, leaving his body prone and picked up by the horns.

The doom bull had the man over his head, hanging on as best he could while the great creature shook this way and that to get him off.

The pit fighter reached for his short sword. One quick stab to the creature's head would likely finish it he hoped, but this was not to be. His lapse of concentration in his reaching for the weapon allowed his grip to be free just enough for a sudden lunge of the creature's head sideways to send the man flying off.

The pit fighter ended up in the crowd! He stood to his feet, half of him eager to get back in and fight, the other half considering submitting right now. Before he could decide though, the great horn that meant the end of a fight sounded. The doom bull had been declared the winner by "ring out".

The human quietly considered this to be a good thing, while outwardly playing up his disaproval and upset, just for the sake of his sponsor who watched in dismay from the audience, tearing up his betting slip.

Next came the strange mutant creature. It had been seen in the last round, and everyone was interested in seeing the strange pulsing organ on his back again.

His opponent was a local Nuln man who fought bravely. He even managed to scrape his weapon into the mutant's face, deep enough that it exposed its cheek bone.

The mutant's organ began to show beneath the ripped shirt, for it began to grow in size!

The man ran at his foe to dispatch him quickly. The mutant fell low into a duck and bit into the man's shins, digging his teeth in and biting deeply to the bone.

The man stared down in horror at the pulsing liver coloured organ that grew in size up towards him. He screamed as the primal part of him that didn't understand what it was desperately wanted to get away. He submitted at once but the mutant didn't care about that! It carried on biting the flesh on the man's legs.

Heavily armed brawlers arrived in the pit and struck the mutant with a club until it let go. Then they cudgeled it and it fell to the ground, squirming.

While the attendants did their best to clean up the mess and lay new sawdust, a sqeeking sound of rusting sticky wheels caught everyone's attention. The audience went quiet. They remembered what happened the last time they heard that sound - who came into the room. It was the dwarf again, Grimdal. He was once again strapped to the wooden platform and pushed into an upright position.

The attendants saw this and fled from the ring as fast as they could.

Grimdal was moving, straining to free himself from the bonds that held him. This was different from last time, but what made this all the more unusual was that his eyes were still very much shut – as if he was having some sort of bad dream or internal hallucination!

His opponent was the favourite to win the competition: The sewerjack. Such men would come from all walks of life. Criminals would sometimes even be permitted to join the organisation so as to evade a jail sentance. Some might consider this wrong, but the job they were doing was frightfully dangerous and no one in their right mind would find themselves willingly wanting to be a sewerjack, patrolling the under passages day and night, rooting out threats that lay down there, both human...and otherwise.

Just like the last time, the shady looking slavers cut open a fresh wound on the dwarf's arm and like before applied the drug paste.

The sewerjack did not have a clear shot to his foe. The handlers were still busy untying him. Instead he ran forward and thrusted with his sword to finish the dwarf before the attendants could fully free him.

Grimdal's red bloodshot eyes snapped open just in time to perceive the incoming threat and he roared with battle lust. The blade came in fast but one of the dwarf's arms was already free and he raised a hand to stop it, palm outwards. The blade impacted through the dwarf's hand and came out on the other side, but, it was now stuck!

Grimdal laughed, with froth beginning to form at the sides of his mouth. He pulled up a hammer with his one free hand, while the other by way of impaling was still holding the sewerjack's sword in place, and brought the stone hammer down on the man's arm. The bone crunched and broke at once. The elbow jutted at a terrible angle.

He did not dare let go of his weapon though, he struggled to free it. This only gave the maddened dwarf yet more openings of opportunity.

The human grabbed a dagger from his belt and slashed at the dwarf's face with it. A mad cut had been made across its eyebrow, lower eye socket and some of the cheek.

Grimdall took one step backwards and swung the back of his hand low, like a swipe might strike someone about the face. Of course this was the hand that had the sword stuck in it and as the blow made contact with the sewerjack's hip, it impaled at the blade end!

This forceful blow had lessened the weapon's length of entry into the dwarf's hand. The jack screamed in pain and grabbed his sword. This time a strong tug pulled it free from the dwarf who fought like he was posessed.

Grimdal surprised his opponent once again – this time by spitting a huge gobule of mixed saliva, phlegm and blood into the man's eyes. As he desperately wiped it clear from his face, his vision cleared just in time to see both hammers in the dwarf's hands at last. He was gripping it as if there was no injury!

The sewerjack could only watch in horror as the dwarf's muscles bulged as he brought both hammers together to meet at the man's head, one at each ear! They impacted and sent him spinning in disorientation with massive external injury already visible. Then Grimdal swung them again, like two massive chiming components striking a bell. This time, what little fractured skull held the man's head together gave out! His head collapsed like a watermelon in an explosion of blood! Grimdall roared and continued to strike at the man's body, venting much of his pent up frustrations on it...

This time the dwarf would not calm down easily. His injuries were helping to sustain the anger in him.

Finally, the handlers emerged at the ringside through the crowd and fired blow darts into their crazed captive. His swings became slower and his roared senseless chatter became slurred until he collapsed.

Twice in one day, this dwarf had been drugged and fallen unconscious. There were limits to what a body could take, even a hardy frame of a dwarf...

The next bout was one of mutual respect. The unnamed Kislev born warrior came up against Tordrad.

Each competitor saluted one another and some words were spoken in their native tongue. Nobody else present could understand at all what they were saying. In actual fact, Tordrad had called to his opponent for a simple fight to first blood. A simple Kislev sparring tradition that friends and comrades in arms would even employ upon one another to train. His opponent agreed and then they were off.

They weaved and dodged one another carefully and even ended up in a blade lock using axes! From the test of strength that this called for, Tordrad was the stronger as he pushed his opponent backwards against the arena wall. There he brought his axe around in a swipe. The other man raised his weapon to parry ready for a counter to slide off into an attack, but Tordrad had already read the man's stance – for his own blow had been a feint! He pulled the axe into a new arc and as it sailed skillfully past the other man's guard range, it did some minor damage across his off arm.

The crowd began to boo and hiss as Tordrad's opponent lowered his weapon, saluted in the kislevite manner and submitted to the officials.

Tordrad was victorious, but based on the jeering of the crowd, he decided not to stay around and celebrate his victory for long –so he retired quickly to the locker room once more where he waited in silence for news of his next opponent.

Next out to fight was the grey wizard, Taros. As he walked out he was already casting a spell, calling for the shadows nearby to wrap about his body like a cloak. As his opponent the pit fighter champion made his way out into the arena, the wizard then disappeared. He was invisible!

The pit fighter shouted in complaint. His sponsor shouted back down to him to stop complaining and keep his concentration but it was too late. Taros had seen his opening appear so soon and took it.

Taros re-emerged from the shadows behind the other man, sword first like a trained assassin.

The pit fighter perceived the threat in time and swung around with his sword. Had the wizard been using a short blade or dagger, he would have killed the pit fighter with one blow. But Taros's thrust took too long. The man took the blade in his leather side armour instead. It pierced and did some damage indeed, but he was not dead.

In response, the pit fighter brought out his gladiatorial style net to further disadvantage the wizard's slower weapon. This was proven correct when he caught the wizard's sword in his net and countered with his own short sword in a stab motion. It went through the form of the wizard. It had to have been a killing blow! It had to! But...no...the wizard dematerialized moments before impact, as if he peeled away from reality somehow.

Now the pit fighter raged in frustration at his awkward foe, but within seconds the wizard had re-materialized again, to the man's side in a running strike, it slashed the man's shoulder, the one that had no armour pad upon it, in a deep gash and as the wizard passed by he once again faded into nothingness.

The pitfighter began swinging his sword around him desperately as he clenched his shoulder with his other hand, to try and stop the bleeding as best as he could.

Suddenly the shadows from the side began to pull themselves over to a position behind the pit fighter. This caught his attention as they formed up and the wizard appeared once again. This time the pit fighter was looking over his shoulder and slashed around quickly with his sword. The weapon cut straight through his foe, seperating the two halves...but instead of bleeding normally and falling apart, the two pieces of the magister simply hung in the air – and where the split into the two halves had been made, instead of seeing gore and blood, there was a smoke like substance, as if a cloud had been cut in half...

Just at that moment the real wizard re-appeared on the other side of the fighter and brought his sword round to the man's throat, pulling his hair hair which force his head back – thus exposing his neck entirely to the blade.

The first version of Taros had been a visual trick, a clone of smoke somehow. The wizard spoke sofly and calmly, "You have only one chance. I do not spare fools. Do you relent?"

"I do." Came the pit fighter's reply. With that, he was pushed forwards and fell onto his face. He did not care though, for he had his life.

Next was the noble man to fight a second time, the Countess Emmanuelle's cousin.

About half of the audience gave a cheer when his opponent was announced: Dieter De'ath.

Dieter came out with a shimmering effect visible about his person, a protective arcane armour. He was holding a magically conjured amethyst coloured scythe. It was obviously not real and instead made of magic, based on the way that it was semi transparent. Smoke appeared from Dieter's hands too, at the site of a previous miscast spell moments ago draining some of his physical and emotional energy. He dared not show any of this as weakness to his opponent however. That would not do.

Dieter relished the idea of fighting again. The rage that had built up inside him had a place to vent and he had a chance to win some money into the bargain. What he didn't relish however was the concern that were he to kill this pompous spotty faced twerp, the Countess might seek him out for revenge...It didn't have to end in death he reminded himself...but what if he couldn't help it? What if the other took over? What if?...His line of questioning was interrupted as the posh youthful faced man spoke in a self assured manner, "Just who are you supposed to be? You don't look like a fighter."

Dieter snarled, "I'm a doctor."

"A doctor?" came the young man's reply, "you look more like you need a doctor!"

Dieter forgot all about his concerns at that moment and channeled the winds of magic into his hands once more. These were the lower castings of magical essence, or the "lesser" lore as it were, but without the correct training of a magister, this was still more dangerous than it needed to be. Dieter was used to this by now however. He had lived in constant danger all of his life.

The doctor in training moved through the air in a haze and seemed to disappear for a mere second, confusing everyone present, including his opponent, before appearing again behind him, from this a flash step type spell.

As Dieter plunged forwards, he sliced downwards with his conjured scythe, stripping the clothes and flesh off of the man's back with a deadly diagonal slash. He fell to his knees as he tried to clutch himself.

Dieter spoke, "If you want to quit, then go ahead and quit, boy. But if you do have a spine then try to come at me. Though with that first strike I think I can see part of your spine already."

The man yelped in panic and screamed for help. He was only used to duelling, not such maniacal downright dirty combat as this. He truly didn't belong in such a place, but his opponent, truly did. In fact, for all of Dieter's academic results and learned stances, a foul den of depravity where the lust of combat can be fulfilled was one of the only places he could let himself go. The headaches subsided here.

The man slashed out defensively with the rapier, telling Dieter to stay back, to not come any nearer. Dieter was listening for the golden words of the man submitting but he did not hear it. Nor did the overseers as the match continued!

Dieter walked towards the man who lunged in panic at the oncoming doctor. Dieter ducked under the first swipe but the next were very precise indeed. The rapier slashed across Dieter's chest, slicing through the arcane protection too. Dieter was cut.

The would be doctor gritted his teeth together and charged. The man brought the rapier in again, a lunge for Dieter's face as Dieter had his face low in the charge.

Dieter used the scythe handle to knock the rapier up and away from him, creating an opening to the man. He turned the motion of this rounded move into momentum and carried it around the long way. The man could barely bring the weapon back up in time as the magical scythe tore straight through the rapier's blade and continued on, beheading the man almost completely. As his body fell, the head hung on by the merest pieces of flesh.

Dieter did not give up there. He cut the head off completely and held it up to the audience, who cheered fanatically at the bloodletting they were experiencing. This man they hailed as a hero to their entertainment needs.

Dieter spoke to the head, "Do you give up now?" before throwing it up into the crowd.

As the crowd parted to make way for the projectile, Maestro ducked as the head almost hit him. He spoke aloud rather impassionately, "Though you can't see me in the crowd, I could almost swear you were aiming at me!" Maestro had already been witness to much of Dieter's darkness and rage. He knew how the man could get. As for the wizard's proximity to such gore, he always reasoned it as such_: If it is not my head flying along seperate to my body, there's nothing to fear, _and that's all there was to it.

Dieter then dropped to his knees before the body, produced his surgical impliments and began to cut the man open. Very quickly, he mutilated the body, pulling the heart out and there before everyone he took a bite out of it, chewed and swallowed as blood dripped down his chin. The wildness in him was alive again. Only when others were dead did he feel most alive.

((Don't forget to vote in the favourite character polls, being hosted at and several warhammer forum story sites))


	32. Chapter 32

**Their Fated Travels…**

_RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle_

Chapter 32

The Fighting Pit

Round Three

The tension in the crowd was at last beginning to tell. The hairs on the back of Maestro's neck stuck up at the testosterone around him – even though he didn't know what testosterone was. But he knew it was lots of men confined together who were too loud for his ears, too smelly for his nose, too close for comfort and too tall to see over properly. His tip-toes were beginning to hurt.

The first combatant to be announced for round three was Tordrad. His opponent was the dwarf Grimdal DalDuraz.

As the handlers unstrapped him, and applied the mad cap paste to the wound in his arm he was simply held resting there, against the wooden structure.

The dwarf had barely any clothes and he was bare chested. He held little in the way of weapons – simply two hammers, the tools of his trade before he was captured and enslaved...But, he had another trade too, for he had just been promoted to a member of the hammerers of his hold. All of that seemed so long ago now...

Tordrad was the polar opposite to Grimdal. He was so large that he would dwarf other humans, so the size difference now was immense. Then there was the way that Tordrad was armoured so heavily. He wore thick plate and bore a shield with main weapon.

The horn sounded once to indicate that the bout had begun. It would not sound again until the match was over but Tordrad remained hesitent to move in on his opponent yet. He realised from the state he was in and the way the handlers had dealt with him that this dwarf was their slave. This couldn't be allowed surely? But then he remembered that this fighting arena was illegally run. He would have to do something about this he noted. He would try his best to find and free that dwarf...as long as he didn't kill him here and now.

Grimdal was still partially tied to the wooden pallet, even at the neck. The handlers were too fearful to finish the job properly. Still the dwarf did not move.

Tordrad wondered if his opponent was alright and he carefully began to make his way forwards. The dwarf did not move a muscle. Tordrad wondered if he was even alive. He shouted something in the Kislev tongue up to the overseer wizard above him. The wizard got the gist of what Tordrad was saying because he lowered his listening device below him to check for a heartbeat. He could not hear one at first...then he thought he did hear one. It sounded like they were very far apart though and getting slower by the moment! Grimdal's body was beginning to give up on him and shut down from all of the punishment he had endured up until now.

Tordrad continued to step closer by the moment.

The overseer wizard strained his ear intently to the trumpet like device and heard another faint heartbeat at last and then nothing again.

Perhaps even the mad cap mushroom paste going through his bloodstream would not be enough to move him now.

Tordrad remained about ten feet away from the dwarf, looking on in concern then upwards to the wizard again before returning his gaze to the dwarf once more.

The slave driver had pushed one of the dwarf's handlers through the crowd and shouted at him to sort his "merchandise" out.

The handler was about to jump into the ring when the dwarf who sat up upon the high rafter shouted a warning down, his gun aimed carefully at the cowled figure. The figure looked back to his master whom he feared more than a dwarf with a gun and still motioned to jump down anyway. The dwarf with the rifle opened fire with a shot aimed for the man's head. Suddenly, an intervention seemingly from the slave driver's direction saved the cowled man's life. The bullet that had been aimed for the handler's head impacted through the cloth of the cowl with a metallic sound.

A magical spell had coated the handler in metal skin! This much was clear from the parts of his body that could be seen.

The bullet that had been intended for the handler ricocheted off of the metal surface, pinging upwards towards the wizard. It struck the platform he sat on, very close to his listening device. The shock of this had startled him with a jump and he had dropped the thing.

Quickly the wizard scrambled to reach down and catch it so it didn't fall into the arena. This was an expensive piece of kit. A one of a kind item. Were it to break, he didn't know what he would do.

This mad scramble to catch the listening device resulted in the wizard losing balance on the platform and falling into the arena! He fell right onto the dwarf! Though he had succeeded in catching the trumpet like device.

"Gosh" came Maestro's response. Of course, he wasn't worried about the wellbeing of the wizard as half of the crowd had been. Nor did he want to see some fun with the dwarf and wizard in the ring together like the other half of the crowd did. No, instead he was concerned about the trumpet instrument. He began to push his way through the crowd at once! That meant getting up close and personal with very many big smelly people...

Meanwhile, inside the ring, Grimdal's eyes remained shut but his body kicked into action. His body was acting on instinct. He grabbed the wizard by the throat and began to throttle him. Tordrad took a step back in alarm!

The wizard reached his hands up to Grimdal's arm as he tried to pull them free. He also tried to speak but couldn't due to the choking. The dwarf simply grabbed the wizard's nearest hand and broke it at the wrist with a sudden snap. He then bit the wizard's neck tearing a chunk of flesh away with his teeth.

The frightened robed human fell backwards onto his backside clutching the wound in panic.

Grimdal had been given a shock to the system, forcing a burst of adrenaline to course through his body. Adrenaline was what the madcap compound interacted with! It was a potent recipe indeed.

Maestro had at last reached the ringside, still up amongst the crowd. He shouted something to Tordrad. The Kislevite man missed it the first time, his mind focused on the horror unfolding before him as the dwarf continued to attack the wizard. At last Tordrad heard his employer speak, "Tordrad, don't let the listening device be damaged! Throw it up to me!"

Todrad looked quizically at Maestro, not understanding a word of what was said except for his own name and "me".

Maestro pointed multiple times in short stabbing motions at the trumpet on the ground, "That, I want that. Rescue it my good man!"

Tordrad saw this and wandered across to the strange object. He picked it up and listened at the large end. He heard nothing coming from it. He then listened from the other end but had the input receiver end pointed at the audience! So many sounds came through at him at once! It was overwhelming and frightening. Even through the cacophony of noise that drenched his ears, he couldn't escape the wailing tone of Maestro shouting to him and gesturing his hands towards himself.

Tordrad walked towards his employer and realised that Maestro wanted the instrument. He could have it, thought the kislevite. Horrible loud magical thing. So he chucked it at Maestro.

Maestro stared in alarm as the trumpet spun towards him, through the air. He knew he'd have to catch it, no-matter what.

If one could have listened in slow motion one would have heard a series of sounds as it travelled through the air. As the receptor turned to face him, the listening end could hear Maestro's thudding heart. It spun a little more in the air and for a moment, the crowd's own noise reflected back on them, making many of them jump in fright. At another stage of its travel path the listening end faced the dwarf and wizard, as Grimdal pulled the man's arm out of its socket so that he would have something else to scream about, along with his broken leg and shattered eye socket. Every gruesome sound that came from that direction could be heard through the device, but all of this happened so quickly that nothing could be seriously discerned or singled out. Just a rush of fast changings sound forms.

Finally the trumpet reached Maestro. This was the moment! The moment he had waited for since he had first clapped eyes on the device. It was about to be his! He figured this because he couldn't see the old owner surviving the punishment he was going through. He peered back at the carnage just to be sure. Yes he thought, it will be mine.

All Maestro needed to do now was catch it. He concentrated all of his efforts into catching it. He reached out with both hands, ready to scoop it out of the air and bring it tight about his chest, like a mother hen might with her prized eggs soon to hatch.

He reached out with a grip as ready as he had ever been and...still floundered with poor co-ordination, missing the instrument as it slipped through his fingers and clattered to the ground noisily. This created a massive feedback effect and the audience held their ears in pain.

Grimdal was about to finish the wizard off. He looked up to his security and shouted, "Stop him, kill him if you must. Get me out of here. Get me to that shallyan girl backstage."

The dwarf on the upper area with the gun opened fire at Grimdal. He hated opening fire on one of his own kin but he had no choice. His employer was about to die and by all accounts as he had heard it anyway, this dwarf was a kin killer! He had killed many of his own to be spared. The dwarf with the gun felt that any decent dwarf would have taken his own life long before allowing such a thing of himself. What he hadn't been told though was that these killings were in fact done under the forced influence of drugs by his captors and that those of his kin that he slew were also under the effects of chemical drug highs. If he hadn't killed them for their sick slave master's amusement, they would have killed him. But that side of events had indeed not been explained.

Meanwhile, Maestro messed about with the various pieces of the instrument on the ground, trying to put them back together again. He tried to figure out what piece went where. Of course this was a perfect engineering jigsaw puzzle for him, but he also knew he was pressed for time. After all, this matched needed adjudicating and this trumpet was the key to that. Tordrad was in the ring after all. He didn't want his bodyguard and the bet of a sizeable three figured sum of gold franz coins to be put in peril any longer than it had to. Soon he would have it put back together. Or close to how it should work at least, he reasoned.

The dwarf gunner bit his own lip, realising that if he pulled the trigger he would be no better than the slave dwarf.

He knew what he would do. He would fire a round into the dwarf's back, knocking him down. He would aim for a non lethal position, to the right side where the heart wasn't placed. He took aim, and gently began to squeeze the trigger...

Just at that moment, Maestro had affixed a new piece to the instrument and he spoke quietly to himself, "Right, that might have sorted it. Now to test it!"

The problem was, Maestro had fixed all of the pieces together, but now the trumpet was working in reverse! For the words he spoke quietly had amplified in a shocking decibel.

Everyone present had jumped in fright at the ghastly high pitched voice that rang out across the entire area. Though the fighting arena was located underground inside a warehouse, even the birds in the trees outside jumped in fright, as did the predators that crept up on the birds in the trees ready to eat them. Even the prey of the birds in the trees, the worms and insects stopped and looked, just for a moment. Maestro had that effect on everyone in the world around him. His presence was a truly chaotic thing anywhere he went.

The one significant thing that did happen as a result of this loud noise though was the gunner dwarf's shot. He had fired at the same moment the sound rang out. The sound had made the gunner jump in fright too, sending his shot well off course. The bullet still hit Grimdal though, but it instead embedded itself right into the dwarf slave's skull!

Grimdal stumbled backwards and fell against the wooden platform, still standing, perhaps being propped up by the structure. Blood ran down his head. He had a bullet lodged in his skull and partially into his brain. Surely this would be the end of him. It was a test of how thick dwarf skulls were that the rounded ball hadn't passed right through to the other side.

He stumbled forwards suddenly and dropped to one knee as the security staff pulled the overseer wizard out of the ring at last.

"What have I done?" said the gunner.

Then Grimdal roared and his eyes opened for the first time.

The gunner saw this and commented, "I've woken him up and pissed him off, that's what I did!"

Grimdal tore forwards in a charge. He did not see a kislevite warrior before him. In his hallucinating state he instead saw a troll. Tordrad was so large that it made sense for his mind to adapt an unreality in that direction.

He lashed out with both hammers, Tordrad ducked under one and side stepped the other. He brought his shield up to stop the first hammer's next attack and thrust his own weapon forwards to carry the second hammer off away from its mark.

The speed and intense ferocity took Tordrad by surprise. He felt sorry for this dwarf too but started to realise that the competition might come down to he or his slave opponent's life. That then would be no contest. He had a duty to the wizard and to himself after all.

Tordrad tried to dodge the next wave of hammer attacks. He managed to avoid one but the second hammer caught him in the head.

Tordrad was bent over backwards and pulled his body upright once more, a visible red mark on his forehead. While the blow had struck quite hard, it had done very little damage to the large man. It had annoyed him though. So much so that he stowed away his shield and hand weapon and drew his axe. Meanwhile, Grimdal circled him, looking for the next opportunity to slay the terrible troll that threatened his very existence.

Grimdal lashed out with his hammers, testing the Kislevite's armour in several places. Still it held true. Much of the man's money had been spent on expensive repairs to maintain it to its very best. His armour was a thing of pride. It carried the sigil of the bear of his people. Though blows would cause bruises, none managed to penetrate. Tordrad was able to do little to stop these attacks too. This also disturbed him, that his foe was so fast even in this state of apparent dying.

Tordrad went on the attack with all out determination, swinging his axe with martial prowess in diagnal arcs that would be hard to defend against.

To Grimdal's vision, the Troll was simply clawing with its hands as the dwarf looked for an opening. He saw no opening and attacked anyway. He jumped forward to strike with both hammers at once – as Tordrad's axe made contact in its upswing, striking and partially entering the front of Grimdal's skull. There is stuck for a moment. Blood ran from the wound but still the dwarf raged and roared in defiance.

The blood loss though took its toll on the dwarf, as Tordrad proceeded to pull his axe free from the bone it had lodged into. How this dwarf's skull had remained intact from an axe and bullet was a miracle, a very terrifying one. But Grimdal fell to the ground, bleeding out all over the floor. Tordrad put his weapon away and called for help to assist the dwarf. Medical personel came on and assessed his condition. Tordrad stepped back away from him to let the doctors do their job.

Maestro at last had fixed the machine and was pointing it at the dwarf as it poured out the sound that indicated an unconscious state.

The great battle horn was sounded to indicate that the match was over.

As Grimdal slipped away into darkness, he prayed that his life was over at last. He prayed that he would drink with his ancestors now. He remembered though, that by dawi law he was a kin killer. He would have no honour, no glory. He would only fade to bone and dust. Now though was not his time to die, for the machine that Maestro held still started to register a faint but continuing steady heart beat.

Tordrad didn't stay to soak up the adulation from the crowd. He felt terrible at the events that had occured. Seeing the dwarf soak up so much damage and still live too, shook him up deeply.

Rissandrea herself attended to Grimdal's injuries, doing her best to patch him up and save him from long term damage. Her healing hands glowed. Her skill was becoming impressive to behold.

By the time the next fight came about, it was decided that the overseer wizard was in no condition to keep monitoring the bout so the position was offered to Maestro for a bit of coin. He accepted enthusiastically, saying that he would do anything to get to have the trumpet instrument. They explained that he would not be able to keep it though. Maestro replied that it was understood. He understood alright but he still planned to take it anyway. He would slip it in his robes when the bout was over. It would be his, to tinker with as much as he wanted later on.

And so it came to be that Maestro was sat atop the platform overlooking the ring as the new overseer.

A surge of new uncomfortable magical backlash energy told Maestro who was coming down to the ring next. Dieter made his way quickly and quietly into the arena. Picking up some of the bloody sawdust and tasting it.

He was already holding his conjured amethyst scythe in one hand. Again the magical influx backlashed against him, this time throwing his gauntlet weapon out of his hand and onto the ground. There was no time to recover it though as his opponent arrived: A pit fighter champion.

Both men came at each other, exchanging shots, their weapons impacting each other. As Dieter's scythe struck against the metal sword, magical sparks flew off to the sides, setting the sawdust somewhat alight for just a moment.

The pit fighter though began to overcome the would be doctor, with better martial training showing through. His blows began to send Dieter onto the defensive, stepping backwards. It was clear that he was trying to figure out a way of dealing with the situation. Before he could decide, a decision was made for him. The pitfighter suddenly raised his sword and brought it down with both hands for extra strenth in a full power chop!

Dieter only just managed to dive out of the way of this attack and stumbled with his limp as he tried to get back to his feet before the fighter was upon him again. Dieter once again forward rolled, sweeping his stave up to not get in the way.

These actions confused the pit fighter who saw the doctor walking with his limp, requiring the aid of a stick to stay upright, yet here he was performing acrobatic manouvres. It didn't make sense.

As the pit fighter reached him again, Dieter was on one knee. Dieter lashed out with his walking stick, sweeping the legs of the man. This knocked him too to one knee. He reached for Dieter and the trainee doctor attempted to pour a spell from his hands into the man's body. He relied on the spell to push the man back but at the last moment the spell did not work! The man struck his blade across Dieter, from arm to neck, cutting him open.

Dieter had pulled back in time to not take the full extent of the damage.

The pit fighter came on again, sensing weakness in his foe, he was close to being beaten. He had seen this look of stress, of strain on enemy faces many times before. This man fought for a living. Dieter was merely a doctor...and perhaps something more.

Just as the man brought down his killing blow Dieter spoke, "I refuse to quit! You'll have to kill me! Unless I kill you first."

The pit fighter's weapon swept through the air that Dieter used to inhabit. He had sidestepped with a magic spell, travelling quickly through the hedge to a position on the far arena. Every time he entered this state, he was in danger of encountering "the other", but he had no time to worry about that right now.

Dieter appeared in real time almost immediately after disappearing in front of the fighter. His next move was to pick a bottle of pure medicinal alcohol out of his jacket. The bottle had a rag already poked inside it. He focused his miniature scorching spell from the palm of his hand, which set the soaked rag alight.

The pit fighter saw this and started to dodge, to move out of the way. Dieter read this and threw the bottle at the ground where he was going to run. It shattered and flames coursed up at him.

The pit fighter shouted in pain as the skin on his exposed legs blistered from the heat damage. However, the heat did not spread any higher than his thighs and the fighter quickly regained his composure again to charge Dieter.

Dieter nodded impressed at the man's obvious veterancy to being dealt pain. He figured he would need to think of something the fighter hadn't yet experienced. He would work on that next...

Dieter slid out to the right hand side to trip the pit fighter up. The champion fighter did not fall for this ploy though and stopped short ready to gut the smaller man there and then.

Something strange about Dieter's shadow on the built up back wall of the pit put the fighter off for just a second. Somehow it looked like it was shifting even though Dieter himself was not. This distraction was all Dieter had needed. He scowled with joy as he channeled a spell and unleashed a shock spell from his fingertips against the man's forehead. This left him disorientated to the spot.

Dieter however was troubled, for the winds of dhar kicked up around him once again this time causing a massive gust of aethyric energy to blow through the ring. Everyone in the audience felt uneasy suddenly as if some evil had been unleashed about them. It had! The spell Dieter had cast had been touched by chaos itself! Raw presence from the daemonic realm had been unleashed upon the mortal world. All of the plant life that grew on the edge of the river outside of the warehouse instantly began to shrivel and die. Small animals, the like of which were kept in poeple's pockets such as mice inside the building suddenly died too, all at once. All of the ale the men had been drinking suddenly turned foul and noxious. People were spitting it out across the floor and coughing. The barman saw only thick black sludge coming from his ale taps. But worse than all of this combined was the threat to Dieter. Though nothing had happened to him yet, the doorway to the chaos realms had opened directly inside his soul and whatever foul thing was on the other side of it had affixed its eyes upon him. One more mistake, such as a miscast and it might have its opportunity to come through!

Dieter could feel the presence inside him, his brother screaming in terror at the daemon watching him internally. _Good_, thought Dieter, _you can keep whatever daemon has arrived distracted while I finish this fight._

Dieter's scythe amidst all of the confusion, had disappeared. He spent a few moments re-calling it into his hands magically. He almost expected this spell to go wrong as well, but it didn't. He didn't like how out of control his magic was in this place...

The trainee physician began to cut at the stunned fighter with the amethyst weapon, slashing his body in two places. However, because Dieter was untrained in actual combat strokes, he couldn't turn them into a killing blow.

The fighter came back to his senses enough at last to step forwards. As he did this he struck his sword out at Dieter. This took the the trainee doctor by surprise! He didn't manage to dodge the blow very well, but it didn't matter because the man was still somewhat stunned from the effect he had just been placed under.

Dieter drew his kris knife from its holder. The leather container that folded over the handle and buttoned down has been pre-filled with a dark oil. The blade was covering in it. Dieter snapped his finger aross the blade tip and encanted a minor spell of flame which ignited it. He held this in one hand as he lashed out awkwardly with the scythe in his other hand, only managing to keep the fighter back from him with the slash.

The pit fighter swiped at Dieter, still a little unsteady on his feet as he returned a shot, missing his opponent.

At this point Dieter had had enough of it all. He brought the scythe round and curled it downwards into the ground. It impailed the man's foot, going through the boot and sticking through the sole into the ground below it. He did not let go of the weapon for it was conjured and would disappear otherwise, but he stepped forwards, using the shock of the last attack to thrust his flaming kris knife into the man's head, straight through the temple. He shuddered and bled ferociously as Dieter snarled and pulled the scythe free, before swinging it one more time and cutting the man's stomach open so that the internal contents were free to spill out onto the ground before him.

The man fell over backwards dead.

Dieter fell to his knees, still growling and gnashing as he began to devour some of the intestines and other bits. His eyes had turned black again as he did this. He was in real danger of having "the other" take control of him once more but after a great internal struggle, with him holding his own head and shouting expletives there was no posession. Dieter calmly wiped the blood from his mouth onto the dead man's clothing and then stood up and walked back towards the dressing room. The attendants had rushed on. Dieter grabbed one of them and wiped his char blackened bloodied kris knife against the man's clothing. He fearfully yelped and Dieter ignored him after this, just continuing to walk back where he came from. At that moment in time, the audience would have believed him were he to say he came from some hell.

Next to fight was a Middenheim mercenary versus Taros the wizard.

When the wizard stealthed as was usual for his style the mercenary concentrated his senses all around him. He waited for the battle honed sense of danger, the hairs on the back of his neck to rise as he swung his huge greatsword around him in a circular motion.

The huge blade cut the wizard open, as he re-emerged into being. His hands shook with fear at the pain his body was now subjected to. The cut had tore open his arm, shoulder, some of his chin and a chunk of his neck. He quickly concentrated all of his energies into the wound, to stop the bleeding as best as he could. He realised that with his magic, he could focus power into the wound strong enough to hold the bleeding back for as long as was needed, in theory. But maintaining this spell would mean that he would not have been able to use magic to fight, nor his hands, for they were clamped across his neck staunching the flow of crimson that tried to escape through his fingers. He considered his options and submitted at once.

What had seemed like such a formidable foe had been stopped at last with but one blow from the right sort of opponent. This man who wore a wolfskin cloak had fought wizards before, especially grey wizards. All of this had simply been bad luck for Taros...or had it? For Taros had entered the competition to win money for himself, but a man of such power sometimes would have powerful enemies too. A man like Taros entering such a competition might well find that a rival to him may have hired a specialised wizard killer mercenary just for the job of knocking him out of the tournament. Not that a fellow magister would ever allow such evidence of these things to ever get out, but Taros already began to suspect it. He decided that if he lived (and he was sure he would, with the shallyan woman on hand to help) he would pay his fellow magister Tyrell a visit and recount old times and perhaps present times too, with mention of how a mercenary came to fight him in Nuln...His next step though would be to capture and interrogate the man. He just hoped that no one killed him in the next round!


	33. Chapter 33

**Their Fated Travels…**

_RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle_

Chapter 33

The Fighting Pit

Round Four

These fights were all happening on the same day. Because of this, the fighters taking part were truly being pressed hard. Some were having an easier time of it than others, but even now, winners would have to contend with a final round after this one.

The next match saw Dieter come out, resting his weight and all the troubles in his world upon his walking aid, as he normally did. He was looking a little sheepish, around at the cheering crowd. He had suddenly become quite aware of how animalistic he had come across in the previous rounds. He would have to be wary of this. He had an image to retain on the surface. Even though this was an underground fighting hall, news of him might travel overground. The less that groups like the witch hunters knew of him the better.

As usual, Dieter twirled his hands and produced a scythe from thin air.

Just then, his opponent was announced. It was Tordrad! Dieter visibly commented, "I'm screwed."

Tordrad smiled at Dieter with joy. He respected the small crazed man.

Dieter bowed respectufully to his allied foe this day. Tordrad saluted back, with the sign of the bear hunter warrior.

Just like the other rounds, Tordrad was not wearing his helm. It was too hot down here to do so. Dieter would have felt more comfortable if he had. He had to stare at the warrior man's face, a gleaming grin of self confidence in the upcoming battle. He had seen this glint in his eye before. It wasn't that he belitted Dieter – far from it. He just knew what he was capable of.

Tordrad internally resolved to be as careful as possible with this fight. He did not want to permanently injure his team mate. He certainly wanted to win though. He would find a good balance he decided. He knew Dieter was a strong and brave enough man to take some punishment and not complain.

Dieter at that moment almost considered trying to flee from the ring. All of his hard work up to this point though would have been for nothing. But he knew that a straight one on one fight with the Kislevian warrior would mean defeat, at the very least. Then he remembered that this point of reasoning had applied to nearly every fighter in the ring he had bested so far. Each far outmatched him in combat skill.

The one element that Dieter had going on his side with all of them though was the little care he regarded for his own safety when trying to win. He would pull any surprising trick it took to gain the upper hand, even hurting himself to do it. Then he confidently reasoned that this fight would be no different. Perhaps he did have a chance if he outsmarted the man. Though Tordrad knew him, he knew very little about who Dieter was truly deep down, deep inside. That though was another element that concerned him – what if this fight went too far, if his life felt endangered and "the other" emerged? That would be bad, especially as Tordrad's death would shorten his own life expactations dramatically, due to the curse marks that had been burned onto his chest all those months ago when they first set out together as a group. Morr really did have it in for him. He knew he mustn't forget that.

The horn sounded and Tordrad as usual was not backwards about coming forwards.

His hand weapon and shield were at the ready. He ran forwards with a charge and bashed outwards with his shield. Just before it made contact though, Dieter had picked up some of the sand and sawdust enriched dirt from the ground and threw it at Tordrad's eyes.

Not very much made contact but it did enough to have an effect. It burned and made tears run a little, blurring the shield bash accuracy somewhat.

The shield still contacted Dieter though, squashing his arm against his body painfully. Tordrad shouted with might as he pushed with most of his strength. Tordrad pulled the shield round again and forced Dieter to duck a shield slice aimed for his head. His team mate was trying to render him unconscious, he knew.

At last the shield struck Dieter, but elements of darkness emerged from the smaller man's body, as if his shadow had until now transparently been wrapped around him, only now showing itself enough to push away the offending shield. It visibly looked as if it was being pushed back.

Dieter counter attacked and Tordrad easily sidestepped it. His vision was at last clear again. His shook his head in mock disapointment and wagged his finger at the small curly haired man. Obviously Tordrad had considered the attempted blinding move to be too dirty, but he smiled at the cunning anyway.

Dieter tried to attack again, but Tordrad grabbed his forearm and kicked him away again. Dieter held his shoulder where the boot had met it. That blow had been really strong, but the man didn't look like he was putting his weight _fully_ into it!

To make matters worse, the severe effects of magical mishap he had suffered in the previous rounds had meant that Dieter's access to the winds were now wavering. He was able to channel far less energy than he normally could.

This was the danger of being an untrained hedge wizard in this way. Even some hedge wizards though had instructors, masters. Dieter never had anyone – or at least that was as best as he could remember.

Tordrad struck with the handle of his weapon, trying to smack Dieter's head with it. The trainee doctor de-summoned his scythe and raised both hands to stop Tordrad's one arm! It took both just to grab the blow in time as he then reached out while casting a spell under his breath.

Dieter's palm touched Tordrad's ear and side of his head just as a shocking electric jolt of aethyric magic ran from it. It zapped the Kislevite man, but his arm with shield had already been coming in to stike its target. Dieter pushed his shoulder up and took the blow into his side as he saw that his shock spell had worked, stunning Tordrad in disorientation for a moment.

Just as a precaution Dieter struck the Kislevite man with another shock spell, this time to the other side of his head. The man's medical knowledge was shining through. He stepped backwards and re-conjured the amethyst scythe, swinging it the moment it appeared. It sliced into Tordrad's arm, cutting through the armour in one place. A small wound had occured. This was significant though for Dieter had taken first blood. In the tradition of Kislev, this meant that Tordrad's opponent was to be respected at all times.

Dieter swung the large scythe once again, this time in a more undisciplined dangerous arcing path but Tordrad had snapped out of his lull just in time to parry the magical blade and swing with his shield as a counter blow. This time the full force of the shield's centre struck Dieter in the torso, winding him and sending him backwards up against the arena wall. He almost fell over, bent double in pain as he tried to catch his breath again.

For just a moment, Dieter swore he could see lightning crackle in the eyes of his large foe. "Perhaps", he reasoned to himself quietly but out loud, "I am awakening his seemingly strange latent power. I have seen lightning elements about his person before. I had forgotten that..."

Dieter didn't worry about speaking aloud here because Tordrad couldn't understand him anyway.

Just then, the trainee physician looked down and saw blood on his hands, dripping from his mouth. The massive kite shield's shape had obviously impacted deeply somewhere in his body and caused some harm. He growled low in his throat, feeling the old rage building in him again. He couldn't help it or control it at that second in time. He flash stepped with the aid of his magic and ended up quickly behind the large man. He lashed out with his scythe.

Tordrad though had fought with Dieter long enough to have seen his way of fighting many times before. He knew that a strike was coming from behind and stepped forwards while turning with his weapon in hand to return a blow back at the smaller man.

Dieter's scythe did no damage to Tordrad's armour this time. Only the end of it crackled against the shining plate where it made contact.

Dieter was forced to jump backwards to avoid the long hafted blow. This left him wrong footed and Tordrad ran at him to take advantage of this.

Dieter lashed out awkwardly with his scythe to keep the warrior man back. This worked for a few moments but then Dieter was forced to concentrate his blows into something better, forcing Tordrad to repeatedly parry him.

Dieter kept wondering the same thought to himself, _is he toying with me_?

Tordrad stepped backwards and counter-swung with his weapon.

Dieter and Tordrad for a few moments in time were unable to hit one another, each dodging away from the other's attack.

Dieter decided to throw caution to the wind and run forwards. Tordrad didn't know what to do with this sudden change of attitude – all he did was bring his shield up about him to stop the blow. Dieter simply used a shock spell from his fingertips as they made contact with the metal!

The electricity pumped through the shield and into both Dieter and Tordrad. Dieter's translucent black shadow covering his body saved him from the brunt of electrocution however, but Todrad had no such protection.

For mere moments, the larger man was stunned on his feet, his body still shaking from the currents passing through it.

Dieter used these few seconds to lash out with his scythe, It struck Tordrad's right arm, the one carrying his scimitar. A small opening in the plate armour had appeared. Dieter considered there must have been some damage underneath it too! The man could actually be hurt. Barely, but hurt none the less.

Tordrad shook of the stun once more and laughed out loud. He enjoyed the fact that the small man had some guts enough to attack him. The pain refreshed him. He stared in some confusion though over the strange swirling darkness that manifested across his body.

Tordrad used his height advantage to strike from above with great velocity. Dieter did not even attempt to parry it. He would have had no chance against the larger man's strength of position. He instead rammed his stave outwards into the man's face. This struck him in the eye. That would definitely bruise!

In the moment of confusion, Dieter moved quicker and more decisively than most experienced fighters might! He dashed close and slashed with his scythe across Tordrad's shield arm. Again the plate gave away to the aethyric blade edge and blood trickled from the opening.

The overall desired effect though had not come about. Yes both of Tordrad's arms had been wounded but still the big man held his weapons easily as if they were toys.

The most Dieter could do was whittle him away slowly. Tordrad however packed great power into each blow he delivered. The few strikes Dieter had received had already taken their toll on him. He was feeling dizzy and nauseus. He knew he would have to fight off that feeling quickly because Tordrad was coming again.

The Kislev man swung his scimitar across towards the trainee doctor. Dieter part parried the blow but the rest of it still passed through, slowed down from its first contact. As it struck his chest, the dark swirling mass again showed itself on Dieter's body and seemed to absorb the damage. Whatever was truly inside of him, it knew that if Dieter died, it too would be trapped with him in a cursed afterlife.

Tordrad saw this and struck again, fascinated by what might happen. This time the blow struck Dieter's arm. Again the damage was mostly absorbed.

Tordrad swung around with his shield and smacked it against Dieter's upper torso before slicing again with the scimitar, this time causing massive damage to the smaller man's left arm.

Dieter dropped his stave at once, clenching and unclenching his fist where it felt like he was losing feeling along with the sustained damage from the blow. The wound in his arm was quite bad and blood loss woud soon be an issue, he reasoned. Dieter knew that he had very little time left to attempt to win this impossible fight.

Tordrad had realised he was going to have to take the fight seriously. He determined that he would continue to use the scimitar and shield in combination until the small angry man came to his senses and gave up – either that or lost his senses and get declared unconscious.

The two men stared at each other intensely for a few moments. Tordrad saw darkness in his companion's eyes. A terrible secret lay somewhere deep inside the man, he could see. The question in Tordrad's mind though was_: is it a secret that he even knows?_

Dieter felt freed by the resignation that this fight would be un-winnable. This allowed the fear and adrenaline to recede away again to let cruel calculating thought take over once more. He secretly reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of his battle putty. As he quickly palmed it, he incanted an ill fortune curse into it. This was a common battle trick by the man. It made foes more likely to miss or blunder their attempts at pressurised physical actions. He tucked this back into the pocket of the jacket.

Dieter's first jacket had been blown up in round one. Luckily for him, he had paid an urchin child to steal one for him from the arena floor. The man who had lost his jacket, didn't even realise that the one he was staring at now was indeed his own. He had taken it off because of the body heat generated down in this place. This jacket too was filled with medicinal alcohol bottles that also contained bullets, poisoned herbs, ignition oil and trace acid. Because of acid being used in the mixture, they would have to be made and used freshly. Dieter couldn't count how many of these he'd had to throw away over time because no one had come along to offer themselves up as a sacrifice to him, while travelling the dangerous lands. Because he was at a push for supplies, he included the granola bars he used for his "headaches" amongst the inner pockets. These after all also contained gunpowder...The final trick to it all was that the jacket's external leather covering had been previously coated in oil.

Dieter touched the jacket with his palm as he commanded a small lick of fire to appear in his palm. That had been enough!

The very jacket Dieter was still wearing suddenly went up in flames as he ran towards Tordrad screaming and laughing wildly.

Dieter could feel the fire moving into his internal pockets. It was almost time now. He quickly pulled the jacket off of himself, ignoring the searing pain to his gloved hands from contact with flame –and he then spun it around in a backwards heading circle that arced towards a deadly frontal momentum. As Dieter faced Tordrad once again, he let the jacket go!

In that one moment as the jacket reached its target, Tordrad slashed out with the scimitar, batting it down to the ground in front of him. A weak attack that Tordrad was surprised at. He thought Dieter could come up with something better than merely lighting a garment on fire and sending it weakly sailing towards him. Now Dieter was even less defended than he was before! Todrad shook his rolled his eyes and decided to end the fight now so that the angry small man could have a lie down in the medical area. He certainly looked like he needed it.

Dieter simply stood with his arms out wide, as if inviting Tordrad to come finish him off. Tordrad stepped forward to do just that. Dieter's eyes narrowed as a blinding flash errupted almost below Tordrad! The jacket had exploded! The result of the explosion threatened to kill both men! Dieter closed his eyes and allowed the explosion to do what it would.

Flames shot upwards as Tordrad took the worst of that and Dieter was subjected to heat damage by proximity. Pieces of flaming jacket flew everywhere! Even people in the audience got burned by stray pieces. The two men took damage from this. Acid contained inside the bottles burned and hissed where it landed, including through Tordrad's armour and shoes and Dieter's trousers. Pieces of glass fired in all directions and impailed themselves wherever they met skin. Both men were coated in multiple small shards. Bullets had caught the blaze and fired in all directions, themselves coated in a nasty poison as all of the gunpowder reacted at once.

A huge explosion tore upwards into the air, peppering both men with wounds. All of this happened in the split seconds of the blast coming about. But strangest of all was Tordrad's actions within those few seconds – For he was armoured and able to take the blows better than his small companion. He jumped forwards, throwing himself onto Dieter. This shielded the trainee doctor from the rest of the blast as Todrad's plate armour was tested and bested above and behind.

Tordrad lost consciousness.

Dieter panted and breathed painfully from the massive deadweight of the man on top of him.

The adjudicater with the horn saw Dieter trying and failing to push the larger man off and the horn was sounded. As Dieter passed into blissful unconsciousness, he heard his name declared as winner of the bout. He wondered if there had been some mistake...then all was black.

Maestro stared agape as Tordrad was carried off of the field. He could still hear a heartbeat, reassuringly enough.

He wondered why Todrad had done such a thing. After all, he was only being paid to keep him alive, not anyone else. Maestro worried that if Tordrad was filled with bullet holes from now on, what if something shot at him later down the line? One of those bullets could pass right through the afore-made hole, out of the other side and into him! Of course, he realised that idea was ridiculous. He knew more Kislevian meat would grow over and fill them in in no time. He relied on his Kislevian companion to die instead of him were the need to arise. On their adventures together, it seemed that the need had arised several times – it was just that Todrad hadn't quite grasped how to die. That was a useful trait to be ignorant in, considered Maestro. But on the matter of the here and now, he remembered that he was now down quite a lot of bet money, thanks to Dieter...

In the last round, Maestro had stepped out of the fighting area to relieve himself. He had missed a truly unusual fight indeed. The wounded slave doom bull had faced the mutant.

The doom bull had managed to win, tearing the poor suffering man apart with his horns and teeth – however, the mutated organ had also been cut. Some of its vile liquid had made contact with one of the minotaur's open wounds. Only now, as the doom bull came out into the arena to fight did the result of this reveal itself.

As the pit fighter came out to face him he stopped in horror, seeing a pulsating liver coloured organ pushed out of the creature's back like a large hump. It swelled with blood or whatever foul substance it was filled with and then fell again. It did this every five seconds or so.

The parasitic chaos organism had successfuly taken a new host.

The large creature swiped out to defend itself against the pit fighter's attacks, as the man struck right and left looking for an opening. Some of these attacks were already cutting the creature's arms. This did not slow the beast down.

The doom bull saw the man charge him and grabbed his arm in response, taking a slash to the chest. He threw him into the built up wall behind him, with a swing around to follow through with the man's momentum.

As the pit fighter staggered forwards, the doom bull charged the man. One of the horns impailed his lower left stomach and the rest of his built up form collided with the man, knocking him down once more.

The man was wounded and dazed, but still he climbed back to his feet. He was used to being in this state, but as soon as he was standing once more, he was grabbed by the hair and lifted off of the ground by it!

Quickly the man brought his short sword up and cut his own lengths of long hair as he dropped from the creature's control. With that, he slashed the doom bull about the body, this way and that, cutting it open expertly in places and still it was not slowing. It ignored every deep gash it had sustained. The massive hump like organ was seemingly pushing him to further and further internal extremes.

As the pulsing organ quickened, so did the reaction speed of the monster. Suddenly, with lightning quick speed, the creature's hand smashed into the man's face. His eyesight blurred. As his vision cleared he could no longer see the creature.

The doom bull had jumped into the air, above the man's visual descerning point.

From this high jump, gravity did its work and the doom bull came down right on top of the pit fighter, bringing him to the ground with his mass bulk. There he proceeded to smash the man's head against the floor multiple times until the horn was sounded.

The minotaur creature did not want to let up on the man's nearly dead form. He wanted to feast on him but the slave handlers came in and lashed whips against the creature's body. One such whip wrapped around its throat and that was that – it was powerless, lest it being choked again. The scars on its neck showed that this had happened to it before.

It decided to let the humans get on with it. While it was injured and malnourished, slowed and weakened, this new strength it had found would be the tipping balance to help it escape its captors, soon. He would just have to wait a little longer, get a little stronger...He bided his time. He would kill the man in the final, next round and then make his bid for freedom in the confusion.


	34. Chapter 34

**Their Fated Travels…**

_RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle_

Chapter 34

The Final

The locker rooms out back were not open to the general public or audience, but Maestro was allowed to stroll back there, now partially being on the staff as he was. He wandered over to Dieter's medical bed and spoke, "Gosh, it's a wonder you're still alive, let alone trying to fight another bout after this one."

Dieter scowled at the wizard but then remembered, it wasn't that he annoyed people on purpose, he had to remember, the man couldn't help it. Dieter breathed deeply and replied, "Yes, I do have a knack at seeing off the odds."

Maestro folded his arms a little challengingly replying, "Yes and you saw off a good 300 Karl's out of my pocket too. I had all of my betting money set on Tordrad to win."

Dieter laughed to himself, "Hah, I told you to bet on me, fool. It's your fault you didn't listen."

With that, Maestro visibly sulked. He then pulled himself together enough to mention, "I am not sure what is going on with that minotaur thing you're about to fight, Dieter."

Dieter raised an eyebrow intrigued, "Oh, what is this then?" He tried to seem less interested than he actually was, to keep his cool demeanor he was famous for.

Maestro excitedly began, "Oh didn't you know? It has some mutant-like parasitic life form stuck to its body. I'm sure there must be something in the rules against two versus one but oh well, they're letting it through."

Dieter quietly considered this and then spoke aloud, "Hmm, this could be interesting. If I could get a sample of this thing from the minotaur's corpse I might be able to conduct all sorts of tests on it. I might make a breakthrough that shakes the foundations of history, or at least one that is potent enough to be useful to me…"

Maestro laughed at this, "Oh Dieter, you need to concentrate on not letting it kill you I'd imagine, hah, or else the only breakthrough you will be seeing my good man is your body with a massive horn puncture in it."

Dieter scowled at the wizard, "So, how much are you betting on the doom bull?"

Maestro shrugged, "Meh, I think I'll leave the betting there. I have an even greater prize now anyway: The listening instrument."

Grimdal DalDuraz breathed heavily on a straw bed as his slavers debated what to do with him next. They considered killing him. That would certainly be easier. One mouth less to feed especially if he was now lame or permanently injured. It was a wonder that he wasn't already dead. The Shallyan woman had healed him valiantly, giving nearly all of her own power to hold him to the mortal world intact even if his soul internally begged otherwise, begged to slip away and find peace. Rissandrea could not hear such requests however.

It was decided by the slavers that the dwarf would be spared a quick death. The woman had given them so much stick over the entire subject anyway, the last thing they needed was the church chasing after them and involving itself into their affairs. Little did they realise that the woman held no sway in Nuln…she certainly acted with the authority of one who did though and that had been enough.

As soon as he was well enough to move, they would throw him to the other slaves. They would have to look after him. If he needed feeding, they would have to share _their_ food with him. If the other slaves didn't like that, well they could just kill him if they wanted. It wouldn't be their fault then, it would have been the slaves…

Tobias was at last up on his feet again. Frederick was nowhere to be seen. He did hold a note in his hand though, with a scribbled title on the envelope of a handwriting he recognised: That of his brother. With a hand shaking as much as his breath was, he read the note –

It read:

_Dearest brother. I have heard all about you, what came of your life, your mission for the Emperor. You did well Tobias. _

_I am ashamed to say that I have not done so well. I am still living the life of a scoundrel, a thief, a cheat. That is no reason for you to suffer the same. I spoke with the Shallyan woman who travels with you. She knew who I was before I even opened my mouth. I suppose we still look so alike then. I told her it is not like you to take part in such a tournament. What has happened to you brother? You are not yourself. I hate to say it but from what I am hearing, you have become… me. That is why I am writing this note to you. The trauma you have suffered, it is being brought out by the mental grief you hold because of me, isn't it? I couldn't wait around to talk to you about this in person…the Nuln authorities are…closing in on me. I've been in one place too long, once again. This is no life to live brother. You left that behind you all that time ago and yes, I know father died because of what we did but I've finally figured out something we can do to make all of that right again._

_I need to meet with you, to speak with you soon. I will wait for you in Altdorf for twenty-six days. The woman told me that your group is bound for that place next, though she is not. When I see you I will explain everything. My plan could restore the Wilwart name to the greatness it once was. Imagine it brother, being able to return home after all these long years. My plan will even help cure your currently ill state of mind. _

_I will be thinking of you each time I see the jaded moon in the night sky._

_Until again we meet, farewell Tobias._

_Frederick_

Tobias gulped hard, swallowing any emotion that threatened to well up and spill over him. Frederick claimed he had a way of making him better. He did not know how to digest all of this – and returning to the Moot? It was imperative that he have this meeting with his brother. Were he not already going to Altdorf, he considered, perhaps this would be the first time he would go absent without leave in the Emperor's service. Though that wasn't going to happen now, because the group were going to have to deliver Anastasia to the Seer Magisters of Maestro's College…

Over the last few days of being in the girl's company, Maestro had become strangely aware of her future path. He had explained this to the group, that he was seeing visions of what would happen around the girl, small things like spilling a drink or some other mishap. He would warn just before they happened. In one case Maestro had spoken aloud without even looking to Anastasia, "Oh, I'd watch out for that tree root you're supposed to trip over. Quite the knee graze that was."

At which point, the half Kislev girl had looked down and seen an awkwardly protruding tree root in her path. She had stared at Maestro with some intensity. This of course made the wizard uncomfortable as women often did.

Maestro knew that some great event transpired in the girl's future. His training of cosmological aethyric readings told him so. He had checked all of his charts and double checked the figures with Tobias, but no, they were totally correct. This girl was going to play an important role in the future. Her life crossed a path of a particular planetary alignment, one of great change. A time when every two millennia or so, the two planets furthest from each other in the solar spectrum's field would be closest to the neighbouring Tyzhak asteroid belt. This of course itself was no ordinary asteroid belt either, for the rocks within glowed green. They were the remnants of perhaps an old chaos moon. Some theories suggested that they had broken off of Morrslieb even. It was a daunting idea to most scholars that there might have once been more than one luminous green moon in the skies. The truth was, only the ancients, those who came before even the Slann knew how and why the cosmological systems acted the way they did and the Old Ones were no longer here.

The atmosphere in the fighting arena was abuzz with excitement. At last the final was here. Tobias had cleared his head enough to join the other spectators in the crowd to watch the bout, though he had to sit on a high stack of boxes at the very back to even see!

Rissandrea was too busy treating the injured to spectate, but even if she wasn't, she would not have willingly watched any of this senseless violence. The way she saw it, they weren't even fighting for a cause, like in a war. Even then, standard orthodox Shallyan faith would approach such matters from a pacifistic stance.

Maestro sat on the raised area, holding the recently repaired trumpet like instrument. Tordrad had come to and was watching the battle from the wings, ignoring medical advice from Rissandrea to "not move".

Dieter was first to come out. He wore the gauntlet of leather and bone, both derived ironically enough from beastmen. As he saw his opponent for this final bout appear, the enslaved doom bull led out into the ring in chains he summoned his amethyst scythe to his hand once more. He deftly swung it about the air with practice slices. He was still getting used to the weapon and how to properly use it. He was thankful though that the other had gifted such a thing upon him. Perhaps he considered, he could use this "feeding" tendency of his brother to make further gains…

The doom bull looked worse for wear. The life it had lived, caged up and beaten by its slavers had made its muscles weaken, its strength wane and its health degrade. But even with that against it, it was determined to win at any cost – and then there was the matter of the strange pulsing organ that had attached itself to it…

The trainee physician began to walk towards the minotaur creature. He held in his hand a red blanket, one he had stolen from the locker rooms out back. He knew that the colour red had a strange effect on their race, some disturbance of their optical sensory input registering from exposure to that colour. He was a studious man, especially in his foes. He had indeed begun to research certain disallowed books. Anything about beastmen at all, any printed word was considered highly illegal in of itself. Perhaps these creatures were colour blind. Perhaps it was all a myth, but he didn't care, he would try anyway.

"Come on then beast" taunted Dieter. The minotaur creature responded to this with a frenzied charge horns aimed downwards.

Dieter threw the red blanket through the air – it sailed and wavered poetically and landed across the monster's face, covering even its horns.

The momentum of its charge kept it going as Dieter side stepped it easily with a hobble. It sped past and crashed into the built up mud wall behind, its horns tearing through the blanket which kept it trapped on its head for now as it blindly clawed at it with its hands while in a daze from impacting the wall.

In all of the excitement, Dieter lost his concentration on the conjured weapon, as his scythe disappeared. Just as he was going to capitalise on his prone enemy! He quickly readied the kris knife instead.

Meanwhile, the doom bull tugged as hard as it could at the blanket covering its head, finally ripping a piece off of it. The piece tore clear but because its horns were punctured through it and it did not realise this, the part covering its face still stayed in place.

Before the minotaur could react, Dieter arrived at it from a full charge. He plunged the knife into the creature, only able to guess what part he was hitting. The blade sunk in momentarily but seemed useless as the creature's thrashing tore it back out and almost right out of Dieter's hand!

Dieter quickly ducked a blind swing from the monster, trying to estimate where its mutated chaotic organ was. All the time the blanket was over its face he knew he could avoid its attacks.

He had to finish this quickly. His kris blade had been pre-coated in a flammable oil substance. He now brought about a small conjuration of magic to ignite the weapon and then he thrust it into the creature.

The kris blade again did not penetrate very well at all, with the monster's constant moving it merely went into a powerful back muscle that was already highly protected by a strong skin covering it.

Again the creature swung blindly. Dieter ducked it easily and plunged his kris knife into a place he could see on it, its leg. He sunk the weapon into its upper thigh and dragged it downwards causing dreadful damage through muscle and ripping the leg right open.

The beast screamed in response. Dieter paused and appreciated the sound, like a kind of music to his ears.

Dieter lunged again with the kris knife and struck the same wound, this time contacting bone. He smiled in great satisfaction as the creature dramatically bled out. His anatomic training told him all he needed to know about the situation.

Still the minotaur struggled though, still it reached for the small hedge wizard doctor in training.

Dieter backed away as far as he could from the doom bull.

The creature desperately tore again at the blanket, but this time it tore in the right place and revealed its terrifying blood red eyes that were wholly focused on Dieter.

It charged again, this time not missing or being redirected anywhere. Its horn gouged into Dieter's shoulder as he brought his stave down atop the creature's head. From this position the minotaur pulled Dieter off of the ground with the strength in his neck muscles. It was ready to get its hands upon the small man and tear him apart. Dieter's stave was in an advantageous position though. He locked it horizontally behind the horns and with both hands pulled downwards with all of his strength. With this same motion he brought his knee up and into the creature's face, smashing against its nose. Dieter's stave snapped from the sudden strain.

A speedy fist struck the small man to the head and he went flying across the arena, hitting the ground face first. At first he wasn't moving, as Maestro leaned ever closer to get a proper bearing on Dieter's current state. But then he flinched, as if something inside of him was dragging him back into the fight – as slowly he pulled himself back up onto his feet.

The doom bull was already upon him but still Dieter smiled and retained that smile even when he was picked up above the creature's head, for its eyes were now looking drowsy as blood continued to pump from its wound. The chaotic organ on the minotaur's back surged blood through its body with adrenaline, which would normally help it, but in this case it only sped up the blood loss! It could no longer hold Dieter in its grasp as the small man smiled knowingly.

Dieter slipped from its hold and fell onto the monster's back. He was at last level with the chaotic organ and stared at it in fascination.

The creature's posture lowered and lowered until it was stooped over weakly.

Dieter simply dropped off of its back and began carefully removing the pulsing liver coloured organ from the doom bull's back, masterfully with his scalpel. The giant beast did nothing to stop him, merely falling to its knees. Its eyes closed and it fell forwards on its face. It wasn't moving anymore.

The horn was sounded. The match was over. Dieter raised his arms in triumph at his name being called as the winner. The chaotic organ now cut free was in his gloved hand, wriggling about as if to attempt escape. Dieter could sense some sentient thought about it and spoke words in his magically imbued gifted manner, words softly spoken that would have gravitational effects on the minds of those who heard them. With a combination of hypnotic suggestions spoken quickly he calmed its struggle.

The crowd cheered his name in triumph as Dieter made his way back into the locker room still holding the strange parasite. He then proceeded to place it in a glass container filled with strange liquid and sealed it tight. He would study this creature more thoroughly at a later date…but for now he had his winnings to collect.

150 years ago.

The Council of Seer Magisters.

Together the council murmured in reaction, as the image of Dieter winning the Nuln tournament was emblazoned on the image in the middle of the room. They had witnessed this event, an event that was important to history in its own way, for it put the symbiotic organ into the care of Dieter and they all knew what would happen next…well probably…they thought they did at least. There had been a few conflicting visions on the matter of what came next in fact, which was normal but the degree of conflicting visions were not normal at all. The rest of the timeline involving the party from here on in fact was distorted similarly. The only way they could read events properly was through the active actions of the celestial wizard amongst those they watched – and he wasn't much cop, by their standards.

Magister Viez walked calmly over to Magister Ahvan and pulled him away from the place he was standing, in front of the great doors that led into the hall. He gave his fellow a look as if to say "trust me on this."

Suddenly the great entranceway doors burst open, right at the spot where the magister had been previously. Were he still there now, the force of entry would have knocked into him, perhaps causing some harm.

All of the magisters turned and looked at the overly rude newcomer. The crystal in the middle of the room pulsed frantically, as if crying out for help.

Every wizard present was left open mouthed, most of them having turned white in the face with shock as well, all except Viez who smiled.

The newcomer brushed himself down and walked into the room. A dishevelled looking celestial wizard with a rather long beard and hair that was more grey than it was brown spoke, "Gosh, so the seer council wasn't…isn't…hasn't been a myth all this time then. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, I hope. I can't begin to tell you how awful things have been lately." The man standing before them was Maestro Rophel Illefescion In the Flesh. He let them know this too with an introduction of dramatic air and self importance, as usual…

150 years forward…

Rissandrea sat next to the wizard Taros who lay recovering in his patient bed. Rissandrea passed the time by reading from her holy scriptures in deep pained thought. For every piece of suffering those in her care endured she felt a grave magnitude of sorrow in her heart.

Dieter wandered across to the area leaning his weight painfully upon the stave.

Rissandrea looked up at him, disturbed from her reading. She spoke quickly, "Do you need healing Dieter?"

The doctor in training replied quickly, "Of course not, I can heal myself, girl. I'm here for your sake."

Rissandrea spoke again, "You won then?"

Dieter answered, "As it happens I did."

Rissandrea nodded and congratulated him, however the sentiment was false and he could tell. He didn't mind though – he knew the girl didn't agree with violence caused in this manner. He figured it was fair enough really, seeing as some of the more severe patients she had seen come through had been due to him.

Dieter looked down at the shadow wizard on the bed with a bandage around his entire neck. He appeared to be semi-conscious, on some sort of drugs to keep him dazed.

The clandestine hedge wizard quickly made his point, "I think you have done enough tonight. I am…worried about you. Take a rest."

Rissandrea immediately furrowed her brow and began emphatically shaking her head, "I can not do that. You know I can not. There are patients that need me still."

Dieter looked around him at those in the other beds. He pinched his lips together, swallowed and began, "Nonsense. All of these patients are stable now, thanks to your skilled work. Whether you are here or not, it will make no difference now…they are all in the hands of your lady…" Dieter particularly hated forcing himself to make that remark insincerely.

Rissandrea coughed slightly and spoke, "It is my duty, Dieter, to watch over those who are sick."

The small man gestured with the arm that lent on his stave as he spoke, "And what good is that when she herself becomes sick in the process of doing it?"

Rissandrea was starting to feel the ill effects of the night – she certainly couldn't disagree with Dieter's point. She looked around her and saw those in the beds resting comfortably.

Dieter chipped in to add to the thought process he could read on the woman's face, "Seeing as it's only keeping them stable, I am medically trained. I'll look after them for you. Take a rest, something to eat. Even if it's just for a little while."

Rissandrea considered this point and spoke, "You would really be willing to help out?"

Dieter replied, "I would not have offered lest I meant it."

Rissandrea answered, "Alright Dieter, thank you for the offer. I will take a rest for twenty minutes to eat something and re-compose my mind. How does that sound?"

Dieter nodded and bowed respectfully, "As you wish m'lady."

Once Dieter was certain that the meddling shallyan woman was gone, he stood menacingly over the bed of Taros concentrating his thoughts darkly into ambition for power. He leaned over the shadow wizard's bed and hacked violently all of a sudden. He then spluttered and hacked again before the black tendrils appeared from his mouth and latched onto the wizard's skin. Where the ends touched, they visibly brought the veins to the surface immediately. The man tried to scream but could not. Even though he was medically dosed up, the fear in his eyes was all too sober.

The ends of the tendrils seemed to be burrowing into the man's body somehow, yet they were causing seemingly no physical injury that could be perceived by the eye. Dieter suspected that the damage inflected would be spiritual, not that he particularly cared. The powers of a grey wizard were now exposed to him. The magical wind of ulgu was his to explore. Even if he could only learn one new spell in this short session with the man, that would be enough…


	35. Chapter 35

**Their Fated Travels…**

_RPG Party events as told By Robert James Freemantle_

Chapter 35

The End of the Beginning; The Beginning of the End?

A week and a half had passed, as injuries were healing and money was being spent to sustain the group's stay in Nuln. They realised they wouldn't be able to keep it up for much longer – for they would have to get back and replenish their coin purses with some steady wages from the capital.

The group stood around Maestro inside a darkened corner of a Nuln Tavern, where they stared at Maestro's latest purchase…He held in his hands a large egg.

Tobias inspected it and his eyes narrowed, "Maestro, is that what I think it is?"

Maestro uneasily shifted his weight from foot to foot, "Umm, well probably, yes."

Dieter sneered, "Oh good, it looks like there will be enough omelette to go around."

Maestro clutched the egg protectively to his chest replying, "It isn't an egg for eating, Dieter."

Rissandrea raised the glasses from the bridge of her nose and rubbed the place where they had left a mark, commenting, "Then if it is not for eating, what is it for?"

Maestro smiled, "For flying!"

Tordrad looked from speaker to speaker becoming more confused by the moment.

Anastasia chipped in, "Alright, how can anyone possibly ride an egg?"

Dieter looked at the girl, with malevolence clear in his eyes.

Tobias looked up his nose at the girl, his spectacles catching his eyes in the light and making him look a little like an owl, "Because dear girl, it will hatch and become a griffon."

Maestro raised a finger to his lips, "Shhhhh, quiet down about it then, do you think I want everyone knowing what I bought on the black market? Especially that Karl Franz, he wouldn't like that, him."

Dieter scratched his head in alarm, "You mean to say Maestro, that you are proposing to fly that thing when it is fully grown?"

Maestro gave an over exaggerated nod in response and stated, "I just have to make sure that I'm there when it hatches."

Dieter pitched in quickly, "So that it will think you are its mother?"

Maestro screwed his face up at this and defended with, "No, its father obviously."

Dieter replied with, "I like my way more."

Rissandrea considered this and spoke, "Well I suppose we should count ourselves lucky that it wasn't a dragon's egg then."

Dieter was next to speak, "Well foolish wizard, you should probably keep it away from Tordrad anyway, or before you know it, he'll be cracking it into a glass and drinking the damned thing with vodka."

As the word "vodka" was used, Tordrad suddenly became animated and managed to speak Reikspiel enough to say, "Drinking?"

One of Maestro's eyes bugged out as the other screwed up almost impossibly small as he replied, "Tordrad, it's barely ten in the morning, what are you thinking?"

Tordrad replied with strange words in his native tongue. All heads turned to Anastasia as she translated, "He is thinking that it is five hours since his last drink…"

Dieter shook his head at how stupid they all were and said, "I suppose it would be the best hangover cure, yes…getting drunk again." Then he sighed before continuing, "I'm surrounded by idiots, but what is worse is that some of them are the smartest people I know…"

Tordrad still wanted a drink…he hated having to settle for water, even though it was the right colour. His armour was still being repaired after the massive damage it had sustained these past weeks. Though even without the armour, he still looked overly huge for a human being, like a bear up next to five gazelles. Although for one trying to imagine Tordrad as bear, one's imagination now would not be called upon to stretch very far…

Maestro plucked his spirits up and said, "Aaaaaaand, consider this my fine fellows…" before adding with consideration, "and fellow-ettes, The front end of a griffon is an eagle and the back end is a lion. That works out quite lucky seeing as I have a birdspeak spell. I might be able to communicate to it, at the front end at least. Maybe not the back end – which means it won't be my fault if it goes around pooping on you lot."

Some days later, Tordrad had gone missing without warning.

Through a conversation with the other Kislev warrior that took part in the tourney, Tordrad had learned from this man of the whereabouts of the slavers camp. They were currently pitched three quarters of a day's ride from Nuln.

Tordrad had left to deal with business as he saw it. This gave Dieter no comfort at all. He wondered where the man had gone, but at least he knew Tordrad still lived. After all, the tattoo on his chest was still looking the same and it wasn't burning…yet.

Tordrad was without his armour, still in repair at the blacksmith. He wore instead some hardened heavy leathers of a black colour.

His swift ride had brought him to the slavers camp by nightfall.

He had dismounted a good distance away from his objective and reconnoitred on foot around the perimeter of the area.

He was lightly armoured and that would make a big difference to how he would approach things, but this also made him lighter on his feet. He was able to dodge and avoid the sentries he found here and there on the outskirts and climbed a tree that overlooked the area. From this vantage point he could see where the slaves were being kept – inside pits dug into the ground. These pits had metal grids above the top of them, sealing the areas in at ground level.

There were many wide coaches parked in a station area together. It was likely that the slaves were moved via these.

Tordrad wondered why they were still here. What purpose were they serving? Then that question was answered. A large white tent illuminated from the inside caught the man's eye as the opening flap of it moved and out stepped several robed men, along with the strange slaver master wizard who had been present at the tournament. With them appeared several important looking nobles. These men did not originate from this camp, for they were being shown around, shown the slaves. A procession of helpers walked behind in tow.

A snapped neck from behind and the Kislevite man had made his way into the camp proper. By sticking to the shadows and moving quickly, he managed to get near to the procession of nobles. The robed slaver guard who had been lagging at the back was quickly grabbed with a hand around his mouth and dragged back into darkness. Whatever fate befell him, was unseen as at last Tordrad re-emerged again wearing the man's garb. Now he was in robes, disguised as a guard, albeit an extremely large one. None of the guards were as big as this but he knew it would help him get away with glances or a merely cursory nature. In the dark of the night that was all he needed.

By patrolling the outer edges of the compound all the while following the group of nobles who were obviously here to purchase slaves, Tordrad was able to get a good glimpse of the slaves themselves. He could not see the dwarf he had come for. He then remembered the condition he would have been in and realised that he would probably not be shown to potential buyers. The slavers perhaps intended to make him fight in other tournaments at a later date. That could not be allowed to happen. He had made that dwarf a silent vow. Though he would not be bound to it for the recipient hadn't even heard it, Tordrad knew and that was all there was to it.

As the night went on, several slaves had been hand picked by the nobles and led away. These were purchases that had been secured - A combination of men and women. In one case a screaming child was taken from his mother, for she was being bought and he was not. Such sights of despair were hard for the northern man to bear, but this firmed his resolve even more. Perhaps he didn't need only to help the dwarf…

Tordrad had counted twelve slaves to each pit - Always males in one together, with children and females in others separate. He calculated based on how many slaves were shown to the nobles that two pits contained slaves that hadn't been shown to the buyers. This was made easier though because one of them was a pit for the females. That left only the slave pit on the north west side of the compound. Tordrad quickly made his way over to it.

Being dressed as a guard meant that he could get close enough to examine those inside, with quick glances down. He couldn't tell if the dwarf was down there or not but he had to trust his instinct. He looked over the caged area but none of those inside took notice of him. He quickly got their attention with, "PSSSST". Most of them looked up. When he saw he had his appropriate audience he began to recite the reikspiel words he had learned in advance, spoken in an extremely strained manner, "I am - 'ere to – resk – yew. Not leave – yet. Leave - with horn", the last word, 'horn' was particularly hard for him to say, which resulted in his adding several more n's than were needed.

Tordrad then surprised the prisoners by producing a key. The guard whose garments Tordrad now wore had been carrying this key on his person. There was only the one key, made of iron. The slavers were indeed lazy or confident in their security because this one key would therefore likely fit all of the cages. Tordrad began his test of this theory with the first lock. It clicked open quickly. At once, the prisoners began to push at it, as if to try to make their exit right now. Tordrad gave these people a stern and threatening look. Even though he was their rescuer and outnumbered at that, the look in his eyes warned the slaves against disobeying him. There was something fierce there, something more frightening than even the slave master.

Leaving the cage door unlocked but closed, Tordrad quickly moved on to the next one and did the same, reciting the same words. The key did indeed fit all of the other locks. That was a stroke of luck. Tordrad had learnt to take luck for what it was – a helping moment that could be further taken advantage of with immediate sound decisions.

He moved on and opened other metal gates in the ground giving the slaves inside the same message in each case.

The "bought" slaves were now being moved to a separate area near the large white tent the nobles had originally arrived from. The taint of chaos was all about this place. It was more than just simple greed. He had seen this when he'd passed the horses earlier, those tied to the wagons. Their eyes glowed a ghastly red colour. Tordrad had seen this before in creatures tainted by the chaos Gods. This was a very bad sign indeed, and run by an Empire Wizard at that! _Terrible_, he thought.

It appeared that the slavers were going to be leaving soon. Everywhere his eyes darted he saw tactical opportunity present itself. His plan was now set. Also, nobody seemed to question why the horses had their feedbags attached tonight. They had surely already eaten…

Suddenly his plan was in threat of being ruined. One of the guards had moved too close to a slave pit and a particularly annoyed slave who couldn't wait for revenge had lifted the gate grabbing at the guard's foot and dragging him down into the pit amongst the rabble where he was set upon by them – with the slaves venting their pent up aggression.

The other guards had been alerted to a disturbance and started to head towards the pit in question.

Tordrad adapted to the situation using it to his advantage, by sneaking directly across the open, towards the white tent.

Very soon, slaves had started to pour out of the pit and were engaging the guards. They had not gone on Tordrad's signal! This at least kept the camp distracted from what he was now doing. He had emptied the gunpowder from several nearby muskets against the tent opening. He then grabbed a nearby torch from a holder stand that was sunk into the ground and threw it at the flap. It ignited quickly but Tordrad didn't wait around to watch the events that transpired next.

The men hurriedly rushed out from the other end of the tent to put the fire out. Another distraction was in place. Nobody blinked twice at an overly large guard running away into the shadows. They might have figured he was going to fetch a bucket to fill with water or the like.

Even though it would have normally been against his better judgement, to harm an animal in any way, Tordrad had made an exception for the horses in this place. They were inherently tainted. He could see they were starting to buck and kick, furiously snorting and attacking enemies that weren't there. That was no surprise at all, seeing as Tordrad had earlier came upon a container of the strange mad cap mushroom paste the slaving corporation had used on Grimdal in the tournament. Tordrad having acquired this paste and had dropped it into the tainted horses feed bags and attached them earlier. Now the effects were finally coming about. The restlessness of the steeds intensified by the moment.

Tordrad looked about the encampment and saw the other playing pieces set firmly in position. Now was the time then.

A second cage of slaves was already beginning to open from those restless within. The guards saw this too and were forced to split up to deal with it. Frenzied cries were going up everywhere.

Tordrad blew his horn, which made a deep sound that reverberated through the chests of all present. This was the signal for the others to emerge. All of the metal gates covering the ground were pushing back at once and the slaves emerged from every pit together. Of those pits Tordrad had not had the chance to open, the other slaves were going to do it for him, because he had dropped the keys into one of the cages. Now the entire place truly was in ruin. A small army of slaves rebelled against the forces who faced them. Though they outnumbered the guards, they were not armed. They picked up any item they could find to use as improvised weapons. The encampment was in battle all over. The horses broke free of their restraints that tied them to the posts, whinnying and neighing furiously as they broke into homicidal charges for those they first saw, as the mad cap compound did its work through their bloodstream. With foaming mouths they tore into guards, smacking them to the ground and worse still, pulling the wagons with them. Though these wagons were heavy, their strength was suddenly immense, with the huge containers seeming not to slow them at all! Tordrad pitched into guards here and there – with those falling dropping their weapons, new opportunities arose for freed slaves to take up arms and fight.

Of course, the sounding of the horn had not really been for the slaves sakes. It had only been tied into what Tordrad was already going to do, so that the two could easily happen together. The horn was the cue for Avalanche, the Kislev hailed war horse to charge into the encampment and that is exactly what the glorious beast did, its hooves thundering hard against the ground as it picked up on the excitement in the air all around it.

With one motion, Tordrad jumped onto the beast as it kept charging through with no pause, both were confident and well rehearsed in such manoeuvres together by now. Tordrad single-handedly stampeded through a group of guards, cutting down the stragglers to the sides. This gave the ailing slaves nearby new hope. He searched around for his target, the dwarf. He was still nowhere to be seen. No matter he decided, and continued onwards. He rode quickly towards and then into the rampaging lines of tainted steeds that still pulled the wagons, even though they were sustaining damage at a great rate.

As Tordrad ducked and weaved amongst them, following their flow of gallop, he was protected from the row of archers who were attempting to sight him up. Their lines of vision were blurred and uncertain. The command came to shoot the other horses anyway. The guards complied. As one horse fell, its wagon overturned and crashed through a tent.

Tordrad had already made it around the edge of the camp again and began to gallop in a line behind the archers, towards a row of three small cannons along the ground. These cannons Tordrad had come upon earlier in his reconnaissance. He had made sure they were loaded with ammunition and powder. He had also made sure to turn them around to face the camp.

Tordrad rode on and brought Avalanche to a stop momentarily in front of another of those large torches on a stick in the ground. He removed it and held it up into the air, speaking calming words to the horse and patting it to make sure it did not fear the fire. It trusted its rider's soothing words and did not act in an unruly fashion. He rode on, back the way he had come, back towards the cannons.

The archers were now causing disruption in the slaves. While their aggression was high, their morale was waning from the arrow fire that landed amongst them. Just at that moment, Tordrad had reached the cannons and as he sped past them, he lowered the blazing torch from horseback, catching alight all three fuses in succession. He rode on and by the time he began to steer round to gallop towards the centre again, the cannons fired!

Chaos and disruption was everywhere. The archers had lost half of their number from a cannon ball hitting the middle of their line. The other balls had shot across the encampment tearing the earth up around it. This gave the impression that they were being attacked by an army from the outside, further adding to the state of panic and confusion everywhere.

Finally Tordrad spotted Grimdal. He was fighting a group of guards, as best as he could. His injuries did indeed still look severe but he fought with a passion that was unbridled and took his foes by surprise. Tordrad rode in and cut down the men who were upon him. He then spoke, "Get on horse"

Of course, Grimdal couldn't understand him, saying, "You think I c'n understand that muddling jumble you're speaking manling? Guess again I…wait a minute." As he said this, his demeanour changed, "I know you. You're that bastard I fought in the arena."

Tordrad nodded his head enthusiastically at this and started with a strained attempt at Reikspiel, "I - to – save" as he pointed at Grimdal. The dwarf clenched his teeth, "I don't need saving. But you're going to, I haven't forgotten it. You were part of it, that's all I know."

With that, Grimdal charged Tordrad, even though he was on horseback. It was suicide. Tordrad couldn't let it go that way though, after trying so hard to rescue him. He gave a command to Avalanche in his native tongue and the horse reared up, kicking the dwarf to the head with its front hooves. Tordrad jumped down from Avalanche, picked up the now unconscious form of the dwarf and rested him on his front across the back of the horse. He was about to climb on to his mount when he was interrupted by a clearing of the throat behind him. He turned around slowly and was confronted by the cowled figure of the wizard, he who led this band of slavers. The wizard too recognised Tordrad, he had seen him against his dwarf fighter, the same one now across the back of the horse.

The slaver wizard spoke, "I see you could not let it go man of the North. That is a terrible shame. Now you come to my place of work and cause disruption? You are the cause of this aren't you?"

Tordrad simply stared at the man, unable to understand his words anyway. The wizard continued, "Did you think I would just let you get away with it? I am a magister of great power! It is a shame though that you are not wearing that beautiful metal armour you had on when I last saw you. I could have encased you in it like an iron maiden. I suppose I will have to think of some other creative thing to do to you."

The wizard brought his staff up and pointed it at Tordrad. The large man jumped out of the way as a huge blast of energy poured forth from it, barely missing him. Tordrad landed with a roll and drew his scimitar and shield. The wizard threw a single gun bullet at the shield. It sped at it unnaturally and as it touched the metal of the surface, bore straight through it as if it were warm dough! The bullet came through the shield and impacted into Tordrad's side. Blood began to drip from his wound. Tordrad threw the shield at the wizard but before it could reach, it turned to liquid metal and fell harmlessly to the floor around him in metallic droplets. Tordrad stared in shock and looked worriedly to his own blade suddenly.

The wizard smiled, "Yes that's right" as he unleashed another spell, this time on Tordrad's scimitar! The weapon began to melt as he held it. A great burning pain seared Tordrad's hand as he was forced to drop it, lest the metal bond itself to his skin!

Tordrad began to run forwards. He was determined to kill this wizard with his bare hands if he had to!

The liquid metal droplets on the ground suddenly rose into the air and hovered for a moment. Tordrad quickly drew his great axe just in time as with a gesture from the wizard, the droplets fired towards Tordrad. He turned side on and raised the flat of his axe against them defensively. Only one droplet got past the axe and it burned the ground nearby. The rest stuck to the weapon. This was bad too for they started to work their way through the axe itself, making it steam from the melting contact.

He finally reached the wizard and swung his axe at him with all of his strength. He knew he only had time to get one good swing in before this weapon too was rendered useless. The wizard's body though instantly became covered in a metal coating, as the axe blade sparked off of it making an impression but not penetrating the metallic skin.

Tordrad was forced to drop the axe before it too was used against him. He now had no choice in the matter. He gave his battle cry, "Do-Tor!" and punched the wizard with his fists. Each impact clanged against the metal but did not injure or faze the man at all, merely rocking him back a step here and there. The wizard took great pleasure in watching the man tiring himself out on him.

Just at that moment, something strange began to happen. Tordrad's eyes began to crackle with energy like they had done several times before. Lightning suddenly surged through him, crackling down his arms and at that moment as his fist made contact with the wizard, an electrical current from him passed into the metal and through to the man behind it! The wizard was electrocuted from the charge! With each fist that struck, the electrocution continued. The metal covering the wizard quickly receded back and another well placed fist smacked the man to the ground. He lay there convulsing painfully and then went still. He looked dead. His body was steaming from the electrical heat that had poured into it.

With a satisfied battle cry, Tordrad mounted up and raced hard for the nearest exit. There was no gate in place, only a group of guards across it. He ran Avalanche right through them, knocking them aside. The slaves saw this and took advantage of the breach at once. A massive revolt had taken place and soon the camp had been overthrown. Those slaves who had survived the ordeal managed to escape and headed to Nuln for help. Tordrad quickly rode ahead of them with the now freed dwarf.

Once they reached the city, Tordrad had delivered Grimdal to Rissandrea for treatment. She took him willingly and though he was violent and angry when he came to, he did not raise a hand to the woman directly. Tordrad felt it was better if he wasn't around anymore, or ever met him again for that matter because the dwarf might not easily understand the truth of his intentions, not until he had had time to think upon events with a calm mind. That certainly wasn't going to be any time soon after waking.

Rissandrea did what she could for the dwarf, seeing his chemical low caused by his body's now dependence on mad cap mushrooms. She began treatment at once.

He would always have a slight drawing need for the evil substance. That could not be changed, but the actual physical dependence on it could. He would just have to go cold turkey, locked up in confinement. Nothing she did though would ever heal the mental scars of the dwarf, regardless of how much she mended his physical condition. Dwarfs were just that way inclined. In fact, as the days rolled on and Grimdal rolled around in his new prison as he saw it, sweating and wanting to die, he swore something out loud. Of all of the many words he did swear, of this one thing he spoke only once. Only once did such a thing need to be said. He swore to Grimnir that this atrocity for a life would be rectified. He swore to shave his head and undertake the oath of the slayer – only then would his afterlife be one of contentment and peace – only then would he sit in the halls of his ancestors and drink of their ale. He resolved, as soon as he was well enough over these effects, he would escape this place and make his way to Karak Kadrin, the slayer keep, to the shrine of Grimnir. Upon arrival, he would offer up his shaven hair in prayer to the ancestor God. _Soon_, he thought, _soon_.

Several days later the time had come for them to leave and Rissandrea to stay. At last her work on forming the Vhor church in Nuln was about to commence. She had been granted an audience with the head Priestess of Nuln to finalise the details.

Maestro's visions had been reported by Tobias to the Nuln Palace. His recent future sight accomplishments had gained him some respect in the upper circles here, even if he didn't want it. The visions lately too had taken on a darker theme, a troubling tone, containing storm clouds and birds migrating away at the wrong time of the year. Tobias explained to the council of advisors that in his professional opinion as a scholar and high master of the Celestial College this was an ill omen that required immediate College attention.

Emmanuelle had instructed the girl escorted back to the city of Altdorf by an armed convoy of her best troops. Her life was not to be risked with this group of misfits.

There the party stood, at the wooden gateway that led out of the city of Nuln. Tordrad had his armour on again and was mounted atop Avalanche who himself looked grand in his newly polished barding.

Maestro was sitting on the back of Tordrad's horse.

Tobias stood there and looked confused at how Dieter and he were going to possibly travel, but Dieter had already taken care of that, he said. There was no horse present so no one understood what his plan was. Every time he enquired Dieter told him to "pipe down half pint".

Rissandrea had tears in her eyes. She had grown quite attached to this group in the months spent with them. This was at last goodbye, perhaps forever – though she did plan on seeing Tobias again, soon. As the young woman's beautiful brown eyes squinted from the tears and peered from her spectacles out across the group, she considered each of them in turn.

She thought about Maestro, at how cowardly he could be yet how great a wizard he truly was. She could empathise with him at least, he was after all trapped in a life he did not deem for himself. She wondered how she might have felt were someone to forcibly stop her from serving Shallya. Yes, she understood much of Maestro's attitude. Some of it was perhaps also partial insanity. She too knew that this was a normal reaction to a world so full of death, war and destruction. With darkness at the shore sometimes the only sane reaction is to go insane. Wizards always led an unnatural life anyway, locked away in towers as they often would. Such things could make a man eccentric. She knew though that Maestro was gifted beyond the scope of most other wizards too. Whether he liked it or not, he had been a good servant of the Emperor.

Then Rissandrea's eyes saw Tordrad, sitting proudly in his saddle. He gave a gentlemanly bow to her as he saw she looked to him. Tordrad was a truly remarkable warrior and not just because he could turn into a bear! He managed to put up with Maestro. Although perhaps that was helped in some way due to his lack of understanding of the wizard's actual words. Yes, that perhaps helped a lot, but they were still a great match together. Tordrad had proven himself trustful and a man of honour. While his northern manners were sometimes considered a little difficult or harsh, and his sense of humour a little dark and brutal, his heart was golden and full of goodness – things such as this she could tell. He had jumped in front of Dieter to save him from the explosion in the semi-final of the tournament, just because he was wearing armour and Dieter wasn't. A true hero.

Next she considered Dieter. Even now the man was scowling at her but over the months she had learned to tell the difference between his different scowls and growls. Were anyone else to look they would probably think he felt ill of her. This particular scowl though, she recognised as one of concern. Dieter was worried about her! Not that he would admit it of course. Though she didn't realise that the true reason was because one of those who were marked upon his chest in the trial of the Gods would now be split apart from him – that he would not be able to have an influence in saving her life (and in turn) his own life were anything to happen to her.

Rissandrea smiled as she looked down and petted Ulger. The doberman dog had been given to Rissandrea as a gift by Dieter. He had told her, "I have instructed him to protect you. Whatever happens he will treat you with the same respect as he holds for me. Who knows? With your holy reverence he might treat you with more…I hope you both look after each other."

The dog was very soft around her, nuzzling its nose under her hand to get her attention so that she would stroke its head.

Dieter stared at Ulger and thought silently, _And make sure you do look after her…I am relying on you my friend._

Rissandrea lastly looked to Tobias. She had become closest to him more than even the others perhaps. Trying to treat his various mental anguishes had become an important project for her. He was certainly a halfling of nobility and duty, putting the honour of his Emperor's service above even his own mental wellbeing. He had also shown Rissandrea the letter Frederick had left for him, so she knew that better days were coming for him. This made her feel better at least.

Dieter looked at the book Tobias always carried around with him, as he took it back off of Rissandrea. The Shallyan girl had written something in there for him. The halfling was about to put it away when Dieter spoke impudently, "Just you remember, we made an agreement blessed by Rissandrea that we would not turn me in to the authorities, that we will first make attempts to cure whatever is inside me. We are waiting for Rissandrea's church to be up and running and then work can begin."

Tobias rolled his eyes, "Of course Death, I commit my thoughts only to this book, none shall be spoken aloud at this time."

Dieter gritted his teeth and imagined harming Tobias in roughly thirty different ways before speaking, "Yes, that is all very well – and you know my name is De'ath you stunted pompous ass – but, a book can be more powerful than a weapon. You do after all keep it _holstered_ in that leather strap on bag of yours…"

Tobias smiled, "I shall take that as a compliment towards the power of my writing then."

Dieter hated the way the halfling was so up himself and full of self-importance. He stabbed the next words out harshly, as if the gates of his temper were fraying, "You are a freak in the mind, unsettled due to warpstone changing you. That information too is in the book. If anyone reads that book they will see that you have secrets to hide as well. Some, I am sure might call you a…mutant…not that I used that word…but I am sure witch hunters would be interested..."

Tobias narrowed his eyes at the man, "By all of my integrity Death, I could swear you are threatening me, if I did not know any better."

Dieter snarled his lip up to show his teeth on one side, "Oh it is no threat you half-pint –want-to-know-it-all-ignoramus, it is a promise. If you ever have me taken to the Iron Tower for _questioning _I will be sure to tell them all about you as well."

Rissandrea stepped forwards, "Oh come on now the both of you, be at peace. This is a sad enough occasion already without feelings of resentment to bookmark it in our memories."

Dieter sighed, letting the hate forcibly seethe back out of him. Tobias nodded at Rissandrea encouragingly, as if he considered her to be referring mainly to Dieter.

Tobias spoke then, "A promise has been made to Rissandrea, but remember that it is based only on what has been seen so far. If you show me any new kind of questionable darkness then I will be forced to do something about it."

Dieter smiled sadistically, "Ah well you might be tested a little by this then." And he waved his hand in gesture to no one visible in the distance. With a crackle of magical energy suddenly that rocked Maestro in his seat atop the horse, as it danced over his skin, a dark grey horse appeared mid gallop out of nowhere and came to Dieter's side. At first it seemed to be translucent with wisps of smoke coming from it, but as it got closer it materialised more stably. Soon it looked solid enough, except for the odd shifting in its skin, where the unreality of its creation glitched on the surface. Dieter mounted it at once. The others were left gobsmacked. Dieter hadn't even cast a spell. There was no magical weaving and no words spoken.

Maestro was first to speak, "My empathic channelling…I can feel the grey wind of ulgu seething through me. What is this about Dieter?"

Dieter addressed them all, "I am unsure. But as you know, Maestro, a normal hedge wizard can not easily attain the winds of magic. Nor can any human properly attain more than one magical wind's focus. Therefore you know this is not my doing."

Maestro scratched his chin, "You have a point there I suppose."

Rissandrea lowered her head and silently spoke a prayer for Dieter's soul, though she was beginning to secretly suspect that it might be beyond saving. Only proper tests would reveal the truth of it though.

Dieter frowned at Tobias, "Well are you getting on or not? It's bad enough that I have to share a ride with you as it is. Don't drag this out…"

Tobias continued to stare in amazement.

Dieter made a noise in frustration and began, "So you would rather walk would you? I am sure it would be all the worse for you having to run behind, with your shorter legs as they are…"

Reluctantly Tobias mounted the horse, albeit with some struggle because he was too short. In the end one of the stable hands nearby had to put out a wooden box for him to stand on, the like of which was kept to help children mount horses when leaving the city.

Reluctantly Dieter permitted the halfling's presence, though the hatred for him burned ever deeper, with him being so close behind him as he was. He could not keep an eye on him from there. He did not like that…

They rode away, wondering if they would ever meet Rissandrea again. The Old World was a dangerous place and nobody ever took their continued life for granted. As the sun was going down, their horses pushed on leaving Rissandrea as a small dot at the gate, but in this lighting condition it looked just like she was a tiny flicker of white flame wavering this way and that, as an illusion from the heat waves coming up off of the ground in the distance.

No words were spoken, not for a very long time.

After a day of riding, the group had managed to find a horse for Maestro and a pony for Tobias. They paid a low price, with the pony thrown in free. Maestro was careful to not annoy his horse like he had a habit of doing with most of their kind.

Seven days of riding brought them to a heavily forested area where nothing existed anywhere – no outpost, no sign of life – but then all of a sudden while they journeyed through the centre of it, they came upon a building. There they discovered a wayfarer's Inn complete with stables and coach house.

The group stopped at this place to re-stock their supplies of food and to get a good night's sleep without someone having to keep watch on rotor overnight. That could get tiring after too many nights doing it.

Maestro was put instantly into a bad mood when they discovered the Inn was having its presence "graced" with an elf visitor. He was of course getting preferential treatment from the staff, getting drinks and food served quickly.

Maestro made eye contact as his knuckles turned white. The elf looked back at him with a look of dawning realisation upon his face. The elf seemed to recognise the man.

Tobias looked at them both and then spoke to Maestro, "Does that elf know you?"

Maestro spoke angrily, "Oh all elves know me…just like I know all elves, a rotten lot of gits."

Dieter chuckled amused with the situation – perhaps the alcohol was letting this moment of relaxed behaviour come about as he asked, "I sense a story in this somewhere. Care to elaborate?"

Maestro raised both eyebrows in surprise and commented, "Gosh Dieter, it's not often you are interested in the affairs of others."

Dieter finished his mouthful of ale and replied, "Yes well take advantage of it then. It might not happen again."

With that Maestro obliged him, explaining, "Well I suppose it goes back to the roots of the magical colleges for a start."

Tobias started, "Ahem, you weren't even around then."

Maestro scowled at the halfling – it was almost as if Dieter and Maestro had swapped places of personality tonight, although neither one of them particularly liked Tobias even on the best of days. The wizard continued his point, "If it wasn't for that meddling bloody Teclis, the Colleges needn't have been formed and magic needn't have had rules. We would have all been hedge wizards like in the old days but still free to do what we want, like tinkering for a living."

Maestro saw the unconvinced expression on Dieter's face and realised he had to offer the more detailed explanation. He took a long drink of his tall glass of milk and watched Tordrad do the same with his own tall glass of vodka and then began, "It was some years ago now, when I was but a lowly junior apprentice in the College. As Tobias here knows, they make us apprentices do the chores and slop work for them - all of the cleaning and other things. We aren't allowed to use magic either, oh no indeed not. If they catch you using magic to help then you get punished with even more work. When we used to ask why we had to focus so hard on doing these chores and only a little of the day on learning spell work, we were told: it will serve as a constant reminder that magic must only be used when needed, not when desired."

Dieter still looked confused, "How ridiculous."

Tobias chipped in, "Consider this, the wilful slack application of spell-casting opens one up more frequently to the potential dangers of the daemonic bird God, he who's eye sees all."

Maestro replied, "Yes and his big beady eye has certainly been watching us lately."

"No thanks to that sewer portal incident in Altdorf, yes…" stated Dieter crossly.

Maestro became momentarily lost in that memory before shaking himself free of it again and continuing his story, "Yes well, it was just an ordinary day, for me at least, I mean, it wasn't for the College, it was a really rather big day for them. High Archmage Teclis was about to journey from Ulthuan to the Celestial College that day for an important meeting and inspection of the current wizard masters and senior apprentices. A bit of bloody meddlesome elf quality control…They blame us for the continued reign of chaos after all, oh yes, not like they don't have their dark elves to contend with…think they're above everyone else they do!"

Dieter shoved the wizard's arm to get him back on track and said, "You are coming off point again, calm down and continue the story."

Maestro spent a moment and organised his mind as Tobias slapped a hand across his own face in realisation of the story Maestro was about to tell, he spoke, "Oh no, this tale, yes, I know of this tale all too well. Your name was famous to the entire College after that day, and you were still only a junior apprentice…"

Maestro ignored that statement well, not letting it get to him as he continued, "Well, the College didn't trust us lower ones with the information that they were to receive a guest of supposed supreme eminence…supreme stuck up-ness more like – but anyway – I wasn't to know was I?"

Dieter began to chuckle a little at this, "What did you do Maestro? I think I'm going to enjoy this."

Maestro continued, "Well, Ulthuan is quite a long way to travel to and fro – but because of the natural formation of magical lines within the core of our world, sometimes when the winds are blowing magic just right, our College becomes the centre point of some very focused power indeed. At times like this, roughly every decade or so, a portal is created between Ulthuan and the College. So on that day, there I was with the mop and bucket, ready to take it back to the janitorial cupboard and get more soap to scrub with. I wasn't entirely sure which door was the cupboard because one of the senior apprentices had handed the bucket and mop to me when he had been asked to come do something else for his master. His master of course had shouted at me telling me to get on with it when I had protested. But anyway, all of the doors along this way looked alike you see…I couldn't tell. I mean who puts a portal of such importance in a doorway that looks so bland?"

Tobias smiled, "The Celestial College, that's who. We hide that which must not be seen in plain sight. I am surprised you were even able to see two doors, Maestro. Most students would have only been able to see the one, the janitorial cupboard door."

Maestro shrugged, "The guard let me through too, knowing full well that I shouldn't be able to see the other door either. Well I opened a door that I thought I needed, an old looking door with the wood of it quite worn and the paint flaking off. I knew what skinflints the College were so I figured that it had to be the right door. I opened it and went on through, ready to get my supplies. Then what do you know? It turns out I had walked right through the portal and into Ulthuan…Oh dear. I was stood right in the middle of Tyrion's throne room, wearing dirty garments, holding a filthy mop in one hand and a pale full of dirty water in the other." Maestro shivered at this memory as Dieter began to laugh out loud. The wizard continued, "Of course, you know what sticklers those elves are for cleanliness…it's not natural to still smell of soap after a hard day's march but an elf will find a way. In fact, I'm sure the only way the Phoenix King Aenerion could be stopped in battle after obtaining that overpowered sword, was if he broke a nail."

Tobias butted in, "All right Maestro, you are going off on a tangent again. Stick to the story."

Maestro realised this and spoke, "Oh ah, yes, heh heh, sorry. Well, I was so overwhelmed by it all, the pomp and majesty of the palace hall, more grand than that of our own Emperor even that I… dropped the mop and bucket. Dirty water spilled out all across the throne room floor. Well, they did not like that I'll tell you. The combination of that and the fact that my own empathic magical energy had disrupted the portal by going through it that it no longer worked, meant that I was in quite some trouble with them. Teclis had not yet come down to go through the portal you see. He was perhaps taking too long having his slaves braid his hair or such, who knows? But it meant their floor was dirty and the official trip wasn't going to happen. They locked me up in their dungeons for that, but not before making me clean up the mess first. Even in Ulthuan they felt that was all I was good for."

Tobias had to stop himself from saying out loud that that was all Maestro was still good for. He smiled internally at the thought of it instead.

Maestro continued, "They let me out – after a few weeks locked up. The Patriarch of the College himself had to personally speak for my release. Only then did they let me go. At that point even Teclis started staring at me in some concern, as if the same information the College knew that always made me paranoid was now open to Ulthuan as well. I caused a lot of problems for them while they had me there. Then, it was a blimmin' long trip home as well, I tell you. I was tied to a griffon so I wouldn't fall off and it was commanded intelligently to take me back to Altdorf. Worse still, I was afraid of great heights and flying at that time. I only discovered that from the trip. I stopped screaming a few days later into the trip, when I lost my voice. Though I did get over my fear of heights, flying and indeed girffons. Yes, that was a long trip…"

Tordrad hadn't understood a word of the story, but from the looks on the others faces he was glad he couldn't anyway.

The elf and Maestro kept giving each other looks that could kill.

Dieter had retired to bed early, to get a nap in now before it got dark. That was not his only plan though. He was having a dream currently, a moment near the beginning of his history – a moment others wouldn't normally remember. Why was he remembering this he wondered? It was his birth, yes he could see it now, he could see how he was born. Unlike others before being born, he had developed curiously sharp teeth in the womb…He wasn't due to be born yet but his hunger, his drive, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Already he had tasted blood. Already he had eaten his brother. He decided it was time for him to leave and explore what was outside of this fleshy liquid-filled place that imprisoned him.

He digged at it with his fingers but the wall was too resistant. He knew there was only one way he could do this – and so he began to eat.

Dieter's mother had collapsed in pain at that very moment. The pain only grew more intense and for one and a half hours she suffered before her baby emerged with a bloodied face. It was breathing on its own without problems. The only one screaming was the mother. The men around her were not doctors, physicians or midwives. They were cultists, men in robes waiting for this moment to come from the woman they had held restrained in their basement cellar these past months. The child had eaten its way out of its mother and as a result she quickly bled to death.

Dieter was born unto this world, a savage little creature, premature by choice, overly smaller than he ought to be and with some physical defects – problems that would continue with him into his adult life.

The child was offered in ceremony, as was planned, but the one who had claimed to be its father did not come. There was no word or sign from the Khornite daemon prince. He had contacted them months ago, telling his followers that he had mated with a human woman and that soon his son would be born.

All eyes fell upon the daemonic medium amongst them. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he just about managed a message from the daemonic plane, a quick burst of information that he could receive before the horrors of that place overwhelmed even his cruel and experienced mind. The message sent was believed to be from the daemon. He spoke it aloud to the others: **Now is not the time for me to come to him. Let him suffer the pain of the world alone, with no help of friend or aid of comfort. He will learn to despise his fellow man. In time we shall meet.**

Dieter had dreamed this same moment several times in his life. Through his onieromancy he was able to see uncanny things like this. Still though, he wondered why he was dreaming at all. Because of the God of death and dreams he had stopped sleeping at a conducive hour for dreaming and he had learnt to mentally block his mind from doing so too, by way of self-hypnotic suggestion. Why was he doing so now? Why could he have possibly allowed himself to sleep and dream? Then he remembered – He had gone to sleep intending to dream – intending for something unexpected to happen. He knew what it was now.

Dieter had become self aware within his own dream and as this happened, the dreamscape itself suddenly collapsed and gave way to darkness, though it flashed red every now and then erratically. He was somewhere inside his own subconscious mind and he knew he was dreaming. He could shape this place into anything he wanted and so he imagined a room, a richly decorated office with a fine oak desk, writing quill of a long black feather and blood as ink in the pot. Dieter himself was sitting at the desk. This was his office.

The window inside only gave suggestion of a colourless world outside. His mind was not concentrating on it and therefore it did not have to be filled with much information.

There was a knock at the door. Dieter spoke, "You may enter."

A finely dressed tall man wearing black came in. Dieter recognised him as Morr. The man walked towards the desk, a serious focused look upon his face.

Dieter spoke, "Please, sit."

The man wordlessly did so and then began to speak, "Why have you summoned me so? After so long avoiding my realm."

Dieter looked seriously at Morr and spoke, "I have brought you here because I want to negotiate a deal."

Morr in-took a vast amount of breath and for a moment Dieter felt he was going to suck all of the breathable air out of the room. He then calmed his mind again, remembering that this was a dream, his dream – there was no air in this room. He was still in control.

Morr spoke, "Negotiate? There is nothing left to say, mortal. The price has already been named. The game is afoot."

Dieter spoke considerately, "I want to propose another idea." Dieter snarled his lip upwards confidently now, feeling great power wash over him. He had Morr right where he wanted him, trapped in a dream he now controlled. He wondered quickly if it might be possible to destroy him in this place – he set his mind upon the task of working this consideration to fruition if possible in the background of his mind while he continued his proposal aloud, "I want the Shallyan woman removed from the list. I have given this great thought. It is obvious that you are sending your minions to kill my party so that you can have me sooner. She does not deserve to die because of me. If you remove her from the list it only benefits you. You get me quicker."

Morr spoke, "That is not the agreed upon contract. Only Verena may change the terms – and only if in agreement by all parties."

Dieter replied in a cock-sure manner, "Then use some leverage on her. You're a God, you're the man of the house aren't you? What you say surely goes, doesn't it?"

Morr went silent – having stopped making the sound he had been making that sounded like breathing. For all intents and purposes it was like having a corpse sit in the opposite chair.

Dieter didn't like Morr going silent on him like this. He would have rather heard an angered response than just silence. At least he would have known where he stood with the death God.

Still no words from Morr, so Dieter spoke again, trying to incite a reply, "Oh come on, I would have thought you would be happy. I'm trying to redeem myself somehow. That is what you wanted wasn't it? For me to learn how to care about others?"

Morr spoke at last, "Do not presume to understand my will, mortal. Whether the woman is saved or not is of no concern to me. Her soul was mine the moment she was born. It is now simply a case of when I choose to have her. I care not for your redemption either, regardless of what you do in this lifetime, when I finally hold you in my grasp Dieter De'ath you will be my special plaything for eternity."

Dieter considered a battle with Morr here and now. He was starting to fancy his chances. He surely only had to imagine a dungeon with instruments of torture. He could take pleasure in taking his time with him.

Before Dieter could decide how best to compose his attack, the window in the room opened and a raven flew in from outside, before pitching on Morr's shoulder.

The raven, yes that was Morr's calling card, his sign remembered Dieter.

Morr reached across the table and plucked the black quill out of the pot it had been resting in as he spoke with authority, "I will be taking that back now, it belongs to my pet."

As Morr pushed the feather into the bird, Dieter felt his own chest starting to ache from a stabbing motion. _Damn it_ he thought, _the feather quill, it was from Morr's raven. So he still controlled it all, right from the very start?_

Even though Dieter had only thought those words Morr replied as if they had been spoken aloud, "Of course I control it. What a fool you are. You think you can come into my realm and claim it as yours? You think to become self aware in a dream and try to defeat me?"

Suddenly the room darkened around him until it was completely black as Dieter found himself bound to the chair he had been sitting in. the only light inside this place was the intelligent beaming eyes of the raven, somehow they seemed to glow intensely almost hypnotically like two burning candles. Morr's voice was heard to speak again, from no direction in particular, "You will have your answer soon. But for now, why not enjoy the hospitality you so intended for me?"

After that, Morr's voice was not heard again, but more of the ravens appeared from the darkness and began to pitch upon Dieter.

The man tried his best to stifle a scream as the birds began to peck at his flesh, pulling it away. He did his best to smile while wincing, for his request had been granted. Morr did not like terms being put to him but Dieter knew he had won by making the God appear.

One raven began to work on Dieter's face, pulling at it, tearing parts off. His eye was picked clean out by one. The ravens cawed enthusiastically, like a song they sang in unison, even though it was out of step with the group as a whole. Dieter could no longer hold it in. He screamed his pain and let it flood free, his shouts of agony rang out across the vast planes of nothingness that surrounded him. He could only wait and suffer as the birds picked his flesh and then meat clean for what felt like hours leaving him eventually as only bones. Still he was not allowed to die. Why wouldn't he die? This wasn't fair he thought. He had a right to die. _Let me die_ he thought, "Let me die. Let me die. **Let me die**!" The last words pulled him from his nightmare, the words he had spoken still rang in the air. "Damn you" spoke Dieter, "A thousand curses from a thousand planes upon you, making me speak such words."

The ordeal had shaken him up. He realised he needed to get out, for some air. The forest would be the perfect escape. He just had to remember to stay awake tonight…

Maestro sat opposite Tobias at the table. The halfling spoke, "I swear Maestro, if you drink anymore of that milk you will start mooing like a cow."

The wizard giggled stupidly as he answered, "Oh bovine incantment eh? That would be a thing to see when casting a spell."

"It certainly would" replied Tobias, "But surely there is already a name for such a thing isn't there?"

Maestro's eyebrows rose in genuine interest, "Oh?"

Tobias leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice, "Yes, beastmen bray shamans I think they are called."

Maestro started laughing at once. Tobias too chuckled at his own wit. He allowed himself off the hook to laugh, seeing as it was his own joke after all.

A little while after this, Tobias retired to his bed. Little did he know that only unpleasant and disturbing dreams waited for him there…

An hour had passed with Dieter stalking silently through the trees. It felt so good to be alone again. Populated places always restricted him with their rules and watchers.

He was hungry. He had not fed on the meat he desired most for such a long time. He had brought pieces with him of course, the odd morsel cut off now and then, and the group had asked him what he was eating. He would always reply with something confusing to change the subject.

As he painfully made his way under a fallen branch that blocked the ditch off that he moved through, he heard a sound on the slight wind that blew his way. What was it? He wondered, what is that sound? Moaning? Was somebody hurt? Are they in pain?

Dieter's curiosity got the better of him, even though the old world was dangerous and prone to disastrous traps, he just had to know what was going on.

Even though he walked with a limp and used the aid of his stave to get along, Dieter moved with absolute quietness. Not even a deer would have heard his approach towards a rough clearing where a small campfire had been lit. The sound was coming from this place.

Dieter looked at the flames of the fire as they cast shadows against the trees in the distance and somewhere between those trees, writhing shapes could be seen as silhouettes.

Dieter moved closer and as he did so he started to realise the moans of pain and anguish were a mix. The woman who lay on her back presently was crying from her suffering. The man on top of her was clearly a rapist – having his way with her with his pants around his ankles. His sounds of moaning however were of genuine pleasure.

Something in Dieter's blood began to boil. He stepped forwards silently and watched the terrible scene before him. He called upon the amethyst powers and at once the shadows around him quickly surged towards his hand where they formed his familiar scythe.

He decided he was going to teach this man a lesson. He just hoped that he would be able to stop at the man and not continue on to the woman…He could feel the now uncontrollable anger seething in him. Would just the one be enough he wondered? His heartbeat quickened with the excitement of what he was about to do. He was hungry, too hungry to care now. His belly was indeed in need of proper sustenance, but something deep within him craved for more than just that.

Dieter's scythe blade made its way around and into the space beneath the man's neck as he obliviously continued taking the woman by force. He was a fat but strong looking fellow. Beads of sweat dripped off of him and onto the magically created weapon where they sizzled gently as they ran down it.

Without a word of warning or any sound at all, Dieter masterfully pulled up on the scythe handle, taking the man by surprise and cutting his outward exclaim short as the blade dug into his throat.

With all the strength he could muster, Dieter pulled the man up off of the woman by the force of the blade itself. It had sliced deep through the man's neck and he spluttered as he painfully fought for air between the magical scythe and the blood obstructing his passageway.

The woman stared open-eyed at Dieter as he forced the man all the way onto his feet. By now the blade had made its way so far through the man's neck that he was dead but standing. Dieter observed him and the expression on his perverted face as his long swollen tongue lolled out of his mouth in protest at what had happened further down the throat, or this was how Dieter saw it anyway.

With a deft flick of the wrist, the blade moved free of the man as he was allowed to drop as his cadaver had been trying to do. With the same movement the hedge wizard doctor in training brought the weapon around to face the woman. She was finally getting to her feet and sorting her clothing out.

Dieter walked towards her, the weapon still bearing down on her.

She began to quiver in fear and spoke, "Please, please no…don't come near…you…he…you saved me, what are you going to…?"

The woman's words were cut off as Dieter spoke, "Quiet your tongue fool girl and tell me what you are. I will give you this one chance – and only one."

She stammered in response to this and Dieter's nose clenched up with the rest of his face in annoyance. He brought the scythe down close to her leg and put the pointed end up her dress forcing it to raise.

The woman was shaking with fear as her upper thigh was exposed along with her underwear.

The man spoke, "I want to see if what I thought I saw was indeed what I did see…"

As Dieter stared at the woman's upper leg he saw it, a tattoo of a raven there on her skin.

The woman's features suddenly changed from an expression of fear to one of annoyance at being found out. She spoke in a tone that wasn't fitting to her previous demeanour, "It looks like you found me out. I lured this poor fool here knowing what he would take if he found a woman like me alone in the woods half naked. He was chosen carefully."

Dieter's sense of smell was terrible but his sense of taste was extraordinary. He could taste the magic in the air, somehow lurking in or around this woman. The short curly haired man spoke, "Why should I not cut you down where you stand right now witch?"

The woman laughed at this with an unexpected confidence, "Because little mortician, I carry part of a message to you from the God of Death. Morr agrees that one sigil must indeed burn on your chest this night."

Dieter spoke aloud, "So he is granting my wish, that the woman be spared?"

The woman began to step backwards. Dieter didn't like that. He moved towards her quickly and brought his scythe about, sensing a trick.

As Dieter gestured with threatening intent two things happened: Firstly a gale force-powered wind knocked Dieter backwards some way. Secondly the female follower of Morr suddenly turned into ravens, her body breaking apart to be revealed as birds that scattered in all directions that led away from Dieter.

Then he was left alone in the clearing at last, a feeling of confrontational pride overtaking any fear he ought to have felt. He was not going to let his foes get the better of him. He would have his meal as planned.

The man turned around with a sadistic look upon his face and eyed the corpse. He sank to his knees and began devouring it there and then. The parts he did not eat as they were cut away, were thrown into the campfire. Huge chunks of meat he did gorge upon, savouring how tender it was uncooked. He was free to be wild again, free to be…free.

Time passed and Dieter lost realisation of his surroundings, getting too far caught up in his meal to properly assess things as he normally would. Somebody was coming and he hadn't picked up on the intruder yet…

Tobias made his way through the forest, in a strange state of half sleep and half waking. He did not know why he was here. He was as oblivious as he would be in dream…Though it was night, he was very much in the mind set and persona of his scholarly day time self. His eyes were open, for he could see what was before him and feel the ground beneath his feet, but his body, it moved strangely, as if gliding, like one might find in a dreaming state. He wasn't even completely sure if he was the one in control of where he was going, but a great sense of purpose drove him there none the less – and he was eager to see what would compel him to do so.

Dieter heard a foot take a step forwards into the clearing. Whoever it was they were being heavy in their gait, not trying to hide their presence. Dieter spun around defensively and began to stand as he saw Tobias before him.

The halfling stared at him in wonder, a look of surprise upon his face yet there was something else, like he wasn't fully there. An awkward (for Dieter) moment passed and then Tobias seemed to snap out of it and spoke, "Goodness Death, what inspires you to be out at such an hour on a night like this?"

Dieter replied, "I could ask you the same thing." The shock of being disturbed overrode any thought of the doctor in training commenting on the wrong pronunciation of his name.

The halfling thought about it for a good few moments, straining to come to an answer to that question himself.

Dieter interrupted the thought process, "Oh let me see if it goes a little like this, you had gone to bed and believed you were having a dream. Next thing you knew you happened to find yourself all the way out here?"

Tobias nodded, a little shocked that Dieter had actually gotten that information correct. Tobias then looked at the mutilated body of the man and back to Dieter with a look of disgust and enquired, "What has transpired here? The truth, tell me now."

Dieter did not like Tobias at the best of times, but his tone now compounded upon the animalistic state Dieter was already in was almost too much for him to take. He gritted his teeth and answered, "Watch your tone with me. This man is a rapist. I have intervened against a heinous crime against a woman's good virtue this very night. He got what was coming to him. What he made me give him."

Tobias came back with, "That is normally for the courts to decide…"

Dieter was riled at this but again did well to keep a handle on himself as he answered, "Yes, but don't get petty with me Tobias, you know how many people we have all killed over the time of our travels. So I went a little too far with this one, so what? I don't like rape – I had a moment where my emotions got the better of me."

Tobias's eyes narrowed with suspicion and he said, "I do not believe I can recall a time ever when your emotions got the _better_ of you Death. In fact you are as cold as that corpse you stand before."

Dieter thought to himself internally, _and so will you be, you jumped up little runt, if you don't shut up._

Tobias folded his arms expectantly. That expression was on his face again, that smug one that Dieter always hated. Tobias always acted like he was better than everyone else. The halfling asked next, "Where is the woman you so boldly speak of? Where is the one who might counter claim any fingers that might point unfortunately at you?"

Dieter's chin rose and stuck out defiantly, remembering the supernatural affair he had gone through with her. The halfling would never believe it anyway he realised, so he went with, "She has run away, trusting not even her saviour. The girl is distraught."

Tobias shook his head slowly rocking his weight on and off of his right heel, "That is so very convenient isn't it?"

Dieter's face went blank, he spoke with cold harsh unforgiving words, "Have you ever _been_ raped?"

Tobias's face turned a little to the left as he considered why Dieter had spoke those words. "No" he offered as a response.

Dieter replied, "Would you like to be?"

Tobias did not dignify that comment with a response, as was normal for him when speaking to Dieter…

Many months ago…

The city of Altdorf

The party's travel time: Day 0

A short curly haired man was sitting in a dark corner of the Two-Headed Goose establishment. A glass of wine sat before him and before the man sitting in the chair opposite him.

The watch captain Edgar Houst was telling his table companion, the man he had arranged to meet, of a chaos threat within the sewers below the city. A new pawn had been found to pin everything on. Exterminating them too was of course in their interests. It would do no good having their homes and livelihoods disrupted by the city suffering chaos invasion.

A plan was growing. A group of stooges, whoever the watch or witch hunters thought most likely would be the pawns in the stage show that would carry the authorities to reveal the threat and save the city. No one would be any the wiser. This is the plan the watch commander dreamed up, for even though Edgar Houst was indeed a man of a responsible position within the city, he was also a cultist of dark ambitions.

Even the smaller man opposite him at the table did not realise this though. He merely thought the man was corrupted by a deep need of crimson revelation, like him. A problem that afflicted their kind but seemingly not a lot of other people – making them feel about as welcome as vampires might. However, this too was how vampires survived in urban society as long as they did – they remained inconspicuous in their gruesome activities.

The plan was made. Houst had quickly left to make preparations from afar. The other man left too, a feeling of disgust in his stomach at the treatment of the shallyan lady inside the inn. The men would not leave her alone. Such men as these were superb candidates for his lust – and so he made his way around to the front, first hypnotising the serving wench so that she would not cause him trouble leaving through the back way. Outside the rain was pouring fast. A spell was cast upon his body to shield it from rainfall. It would matter not how big a torrent raged upon him, his clothing would not even get slightly wet. He could not promise the same for the other man though – and not just because he was out in a rainstorm…

He had caught up with the man, collaring him in an alleyway and making the kill as quickly as possible, as was his manner, so that he was free to take his time with the body afterwards with no fear of it trying to escape. He was arranging everything to be right, when suddenly a light flashed upon him.

A city watch guard stood there in a rain mac, with truncheon in one hand and a lantern in the other.

The city watchman spoke, "What are you doing here sir?"

The man did not look around, but started to get up slowly, explaining that he had found a body and was giving it a proper inspection before alerting the authorities.

As the killer turned to face the watchman and squinted from the light in his eyes he was recognised, "Oh it's you" said the guard, "I am sorry to have startled you. You have helped us with many of these killings indeed Sir, but I am most disturbed by the anonymous tip off the watch had to come arrest a killer in this district. This alleyway is my patrol."

The small man could hear footsteps of more city watch approaching from the street. He stumbled in trying to get back up and reached with feigned pretence for his walking stave so that it might better bear his weight. The guard instinctively helped him to his feet by taking the man by the arm and handing him his stave.

As soon as it touched his hands he lunged it into an upwards thrust directly below the watchman's nose, making his teeth and mouth bleed. That meant he would not be blowing any whistle for assistance. With his other hand he quickly brought the scalpel he had concealed from sight up and into the watchman's eye. The blade went through and straight into the brain killing him outright.

The killer quickly grabbed the lantern before it could drop to the ground and smash, turning the valve on it so that the light was killed and once again the alley was in peaceful darkness.

The other guards ran by just at that moment, heading for their zones to patrol. Soon they were gone again, though not quite out of ear shot. The killer would have to work quickly he realised. He could not afford to hang around here long, even though he would leave no prints behind, not even footsteps in the rain – Dieter realised he had been betrayed by Houst – a betrayal that would ultimately lead to Dieter coincidentally becoming wrapped up in the murder investigation he was the cause of. He had killed so many other victims before and after this day, but meeting this group and getting stuck with them as he saw it was the changing point in his life, the marks on his chest were literally like a curse on his flesh.

He did not truly know why he murdered people. He only knew that he needed to – a terrible urge that would overwhelm him, only settling down once the deed was done.

Little did Dieter realise then and even now that Houst was serving an even larger cause, that of the red skinned Daemonic Lord who gave him his true orders – orders that conveyed quite strictly that Dieter should know no friendship. That only through constant betrayal and consequently a feeling of self-alienation would his heart become properly cold enough to carry the legacy intended for him…

As Dieter stared at Tobias he realised that the halfling wasn't going to back down easily from this.

Tobias continued, "Why do you have blood around your mouth?"

Dieter lied, "I had to taste it, to understand his motives. The other, the thing inside demands it."

Tobias snapped, "Listen, Rissandrea might have been sympathetic to this 'other' but I won't stand for it. You've done more than taste it. you've been eating that body haven't you?"

Dieter snarled, "Just drop it right here and we can carry on with…"

"We can't carry anything on!" Came Tobias getting angry now, "You have gone too far. I warned you what would happen if I found out. I knew you were bad all along."

Dieter spoke with his temper rising, "If I am so bad, how terrible you must be for one such as I to find you so insufferable."

Tobias began to step forwards, unbuckling his crossbow from its strap, "Come, I am taking you into the watch – and I will personally vouch my distrust in your story. You will go down once and for all Death."

Dieter's heart raced as he called aloud words of a magical nature. Tobias prepared himself for a magical attack that never came, instead, from the shadows in the trees formed a horse that raced quickly towards Dieter. Tobias recognised it as the magical mount he had ridden upon earlier in the trip. Dieter was trying to escape.

Tobias quickly drew a bolt to shoot but stopped again to watch what seemed like thousands of ravens suddenly pouring down out of the sky, as if they were coming from Mannslieb itself towards the clearing.

Dieter was saddened that he would have to leave. He would be an outlaw now – he would just have to accept it and live with it…yes live – and living was going to be uncertain now that he could not guarantee the others would survive. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do, but he decided it was going to be the way of things.

Just as Dieter's magical horse reached the clearing, a mass of black flapping shapes tore down into its path forming a wall of feathers, clawed feet and beaks that so many ravens would.

The horse smashed against the living shield, scattering some birds from the impact but none the less it was stopped as its speed made it tear apart and dissipate into the spirals of aethyr and shadow that it had originally been drawn from.

Dieter cursed Morr. A whistling sound of a bolt coming through the air grabbed his attention again as Tobias had fired upon him. The shot had been aimed at his shoulder in an attempt at taking him down without killing him. Dieter had instinctively raised his beastman derived gauntlet and smacked the bolt aside with the bone plating on it. He had gotten lucky! He wasn't going to try doing that again! But Tobias had already reloaded and was about to fire again. Dieter quickly dived through the partially splitting wall of birds as the shot was fired. It whizzed into the storm of black creatures and disappeared amongst it all. As the birds flew up and away back towards the moon, Dieter was nowhere to be seen.

Tobias suddenly smelt hedge magic at work as Dieter had appeared at the halfling's flank, stepping quickly from a shadow. He hurriedly jammed his stave up and through the gap in the crossbow rendering it momentarily useless. Dieter then quickly tugged on the stave which had remained entwined with the crossbow which was pulled out of Tobias's hands. Just at that moment though, Tobias had landed a reaching punch into Dieter's cheek impacting teeth which made the crossbow slip off and go flying away from either of their grasps.

Dieter brought his stave about in a defensive manner. Tobias too readied his from his back. The halfling spoke, "I did not want it to come to this, Death. I really didn't."

Dieter licked his lips, "I did."

Tobias brought the stave up in defence as Dieter began to attack.

For a short while the two of them battled with their staffs. Each of them got in a few good shots on the other, some blows to make them realise that things were turning ugly.

Dieter had even tried magically quickened hypnosis on the halfling, but Tobias had shrugged that off too, the effects of the warpstone on his mind had even made him resistant to that now.

After the halfling had backflip kicked Dieter onto his back, Tobias threw down his stave and pulled his robes off, revealing the black leathers underneath. Dieter knew what this meant. Tobias drew both of his boot daggers and made ready to come at Dieter again.

Dieter spoke, "Can't you see? You're being used. The ravens coming like that. It's a plan to set you against me."

Tobias answered, "I do not feel I am doing anything against my own nature. I am apprehending a dangerous felon."

Dieter came back with, "Good luck with that."

The trainee doctor threw down his stave and drew his hands into the shape to hold a weapon. In mere seconds the amethyst stave was in his hands again. He spun it purposely, each move looking dangerous enough to kill the halfling in one shot. Tobias though was now in a new frame of mind, one where he could access his most quickest of reactions.

The halfling tore forward at a pace so fast that it did not suit his size. Dieter spun the weapon of death so fast that it looked like a concerto of scythe blades that whirred a dark minor key in unison.

Dieter thrust with the blade storm, trying to envelop the halfling in it. Tobias though was too agile, leaping up and over the weapon and its wielder like a pole vaulter. He landed on the other side and lunged one blade into the back of Dieter's leg. The man screamed in frustration and swung the weapon around again. Tobias easily ducked under it, his size helping with this task as he sliced a dagger up Dieter's face, tearing into his ear and gouging on through the hair into the scalp.

The head wound was deep. Dieter was shaken up by the skill of his opponent. He touched his finger to the wound and tasted the blood. He realised that it at least was not poisoned, or else this battle would have already been over. Too hastily the halfling had come at him. Too quickly had Dieter underestimated him.

He shook his head to clear his blurring vision, as two pictures of proceedings before him threatened to confuse his mind. At least both pictures agreed with the input they were receiving, as the vision of two Tobias's charging him warned his senses that he needed to act now.

Dieter swiped outwards and forward rolled through the attack. Had Tobias lunged with a dagger as he intended, the whirling blade would have taken his arm off. Dieter was impressed with the halfling's quick decision making in battle. Tobias of course was impressed with himself, as usual.

Dieter pulled the winds of magic about him like a cloak which expressed itself as the shadows come about him in protection. An aethyric armour was now in place. He had to shut out the pain to his leg and head.

Tobias spoke, "It's a risky business, relying on magic as much as you do."

Dieter replied, "Who said I was afraid of risk?"

Dieter charged with his scythe, deciding that the two visions were almost close enough to being one that he might now be able to mount a counter offensive.

As Dieter's scythe came down, he realised his mistake. He should have attacked with a side arcing swipe. A foe with short ranged weapons such as daggers would be put at a bigger disadvantage from that.

Tobias saw the scythe come at him and he saw his opportunity, trusting in his skill. He decided to not roll away from the attack. He raised both of his daggers quickly, having them nearly meet at their ends to catch the scythe as it came to him.

Tobias dropped a dagger and grabbed Dieter's arm, concentrating his force into it.

The clandestine hedge wizard felt the magic that naturally lived in his body waver. The halfling's anti-magical repulsion abilities! He remembered now. This one had learned how to use his natural talent of magical resistance outwardly by contact through skin.

Dieter cursed as he felt the magic drain out of his body and the scythe he tried to swing at Tobias to cut him, no longer existed. Dieter ended up swinging thin air at the halfling instead. Tobias countered this with a jump kick into Dieter's face. The man forced himself not to fall over. He told himself he wouldn't, that he would be very cross with himself if he did.

Dieter drew his kris blade in one hand and his scalpel in the other. He decided to play the halfling at his own game and seeing as he was ambidextrous it wasn't too hard for him to do.

Tobias drew another dagger, making Dieter wonder just how many of them he kept concealed on him.

Then they clashed, weapon struck weapon with whirling bodies dancing this way and that. When people would see Dieter perform feats of great agility that defied his disabled reputation, they failed to understand a very important factor – Dieter wasn't lying, he truly couldn't perform these amazing feats with his body as bad as it was – but he wouldn't ever catch himself saying that. It was because he didn't think about it that he was able to do it. He defied his body and went through the pain – as one who had known mainly pain all of his life, this test meant very little to him.

Tobias's dagger sunk into Dieter's arm, just below the gauntlet he wore. In response Dieter's scalpel tore a chunk of flesh away from Tobias's chin and chest. It lay on the floor and he began quickly bleeding from the wound. Dieter stabbed the kris blade forward but it did not make contact with the halfling.

Tobias jumped backwards with a leap far beyond what a normal person would be capable of and while in mid-air he threw one of his many daggers at Dieter.

It hit the physician in training, striking him to the chest, but the shadowy armour had formed up around it in a goop-like state, stopping its full entry into the man's body. Dieter plucked it out, with only a minor wound. Had the otherworldly shield not been there, the dagger would have buried itself up to the hilt and it had been on target with the heart. Dieter was impressed again.

Even though Tobias had robbed him of his magic, the other was still very active inside. He was drawing from this source of power instead.

Dieter bared his scalpel at Tobias taunting him, "Come on then, we'll finish this finally. The winner can say my name however they want."

Dieter's dark humour was as always lost on the halfling, but Tobias did at least respond to the challenge element, bringing both of his daggers into attack positions and charging Dieter. This would be a killing move, he told himself. Dieter was too dangerous to apprehend in any other way. He knew exactly how he could do it too. A two dagger attack that Dieter would never see coming in time.

As Tobias raced on, Dieter charged too, taking Tobias by surprise at the gap closing quicker than he had expected.

As Tobias reached Dieter, he launched his first dagger downwards into the man's foot. It impaled right on target. He wasn't sure how far the dagger had gone in though, because of the magical barrier Dieter had about him. All Dieter could do was respond with his arm outwards towards Tobias.

Tobias knew it was time for the killing blow. His other dagger would now sail with him loosely in his hand towards Dieter's throat from his jump. The first dagger was merely misdirection.

It was indeed a deadly killing blow, but not in the way it was intended. A blade that had shot out of the hand into a thrown velocity that impacted its target's skull, going right through the head cleanly and killing him outright.

As one of them dropped, the other remained standing.

Tobias stared at Dieter, a look of remorse in his gaze. He hadn't truly wanted to do this. He knew he had to though. That stare did not end, for it was Tobias's deathly visage, the last expression that had been on his face as Dieter's kris knife had left his hand. The thrown blade had reached the halfling before the jumping thrust could ever reach Dieter.

Dieter looked down at the corpse and spoke quietly, "Actually you were right, my name is Death."

Within moments Dieter's chest was ablaze with pain. He knew what this was. He pulled his shirt open and could see the Wilwart sigil burning away into his body. He refused to scream in pain, simply scrunching his eyes closed and gritting his teeth together.

The hurt was terrible as he stumbled his way across to Tobias's crossbow and bit on the wood, roaring with the torture.

The pain eventually began to de-intensify and as Dieter looked at his smoking chest, he could see the area was now replaced by a scar. This though was a deep tissue scar that led all the way down to the bone, scarring the bone itself as well.

All Dieter wanted to do was rest but he knew he couldn't do that. He had to decide how he was going to handle things from here.

He limped over to the halfling's body and knelt down to it painfully, then gave a huge sigh of mixed feelings at how proceedings had unfolded. He yanked on his kris knife, pulling it free of the skull with some effort. As it came free Dieter saw that it had somehow pierced the piece of warpstone that was previously embedded into Tobias. Dieter also realised that this was too much of a coincidence to be purely by accident. He wondered what dark power was influencing this. With a handkerchief he quickly wrapped the warpstone shard up and put it in his pocket. He laughed to himself and spoke, "Hah, looks like I gave you that operation to remove the warpstone after all…"

Dieter put a hand across Tobias's face and brought his palm down across the eyelids bringing them to a close. He had gone too far. Just as he stood again, resting his weight upon the stave, the eyes of Tobias's corpse opened! The eyes revealed were suddenly deathly white looking. The corpse spoke but not in Tobias's voice, it was the voice of Morr, "Now you have your answer. Do not think to petition me with your prayer and desire. Be it for good or ill. It is now as you wished, you are another step closer to me, heh heh heh hah hah hah hah hah hah hah."

The voice faded away and Tobias's eyes closed again.

Dieter began to tremble a little, something deep inside of him, something primal now began to understand the trouble he was in. The very next thing Dieter did was to throw Tobias's journal into the camp fire and watch it burn.

Dieter took his time cutting select pieces from the body and carefully wrapping them to eat later. The rest he buried securely in the woods. No one would ever find him here, he knew.

Later when he met the party, he told them that he wasn't able to sleep last night so he went for a stroll to get some air. He explained that he had seen a horseback messenger come for Tobias while he was out on one of his night time "forays". He told the group that the messenger had told Tobias that he was required back at the city of Altdorf immediately. Tobias had then taken a pony asking Dieter to tell the rest of the group that he had to leave in this way.

Maestro had asked what sort of messenger it was. Dieter thought for a moment and worked more of his hypnosis to dumbfound the wizard's already screwy mind. He then pretended that he had remembered that it was a man bearing the colours of the Celestial College, white and blue robes.

Maestro considered this for a moment. Dieter could sense Maestro's difficulty at taking this story in so he added, "I can't imagine how they knew we were here though, right out in the middle of nowhere."

At that point Maestro unwittingly helped out by saying, "Oh I can. My College are a strange lot. If they've had a vision pertaining to a specific event they can sometimes really pinpoint the location of the event or those involved in the event. A sort of magical divination if you like. It's because that person is part of the thread of fate and they can follow that thread wherever it goes once they have it – but that's if the event lets them."

Dieter feigned surprise at Maestro's answer. In truth he was only really surprised at how silly the wizard was, "Then I suppose this must have been quite important."

"I suppose so" came the wizard's considered reply.

The party of three made it back to the city without any other complications. It felt strange to them to be so few in number, but the trip had adjusted them to that. Once they had arrived back at the city of course, they were able to separate as much as they wanted. This was especially good for Tordrad who had been going crazy being forced to spend so much time with Maestro.

Maestro's first stop was Magnamus. He was terribly afraid for him suddenly, having a vision of his tower on fire. He ran all the way to the place his master lived and saw that it was standing just fine. Maestro let himself in and made his way upstairs only to be greeted by silence. That was unusual for Magnamus who normally would greet him with enthusiasm and warmth.

A cold sinking feeling began to grow as Maestro made his way up, floor after floor all the way to Magnamus's bedroom. There he knocked the door and heard no reply. He realised that he wouldn't be disturbing anyone if no one was in there, so he opened the door and checked. What he saw made him wish he hadn't…There on a bed lay Magnamus, his face as white as a sheet. He had died! Maestro could tell at once. As the wizard came closer, he saw Magnamus laying peacefully, his hands upon his own chest.

Maestro didn't know what to do…how he wondered, how could Magnamus just be dead? Suddenly the gem the wizard wore in his large red ring upon his finger glowed in response to the proximity of Maestro's power-stone he kept bound to his stave. Maestro felt a spell go off yet saw nothing cast anywhere about him. He then realised, it had to have been a delayed response spell, configured to perfectly react to the presence of his staff. He wondered why Magnamus had done that.

Suddenly as part of the spell, the wall began to burn. That is the spell that had been cast Maestro realised, a delayed fire writing spell. Magnamus had used aethyric energy to imprint an invisible written message into his own wallpaper. Only now the spell had been triggered, did the built up aethyric power respond and spend itself, becoming flame and burning the words into the wall. The message was so long that it ran to the floor and continued there.

There before Maestro was Magnamus's final instructions to his student. It read:

_Maestro, do not fret that my illness has led to my death. I did not have to be a seer to know it was coming. I did not tell you about it because you are a young man, one who does not need the weight of problems on his mind while trying to survive the arduous conditions of the wilds. I've been there, I understand. But you must now take from me the legacy I hold. More than just this tower and my library, you must take from me the item that has been passed down from dying wizard to dying wizard, each understanding that it is a wholly important artefact that must alter the course of this world's future. For each magister that held it, the knowledge was clear. Each could just feel it in their hearts. You must take from me the key of fate Maestro, and keep it as I did. You must find a lock that fits it and only then will it have completed its journey. I thought I would be the fated one for it, the key being the symbol of my order. I now hope that person will be you, but if it is not, be sure to give it to another wizard upon your death. The journey must continue as must yours, while mine alas ends here. Take from my hands the artefact and guard it well. _

_I am proud of what you achieved Maestro. You are now a superb wizard. I always knew you would be._

_Good bye my friend._

_Magnamus _

Maestro fought hard to keep his tears back as he read the last of the note and spun around to look to Magnamus. There in his open palm rested a larger silver key. In the centre of its handle was a blue precious stone. Maestro couldn't discern what manner of gem this was nor whether or not it was magical. It was a mystery for him to gaze upon something that gave no readings of magic, but in a way that felt so unnatural that there could be some magic involved.

He carefully took the key from his master's palm. As he did so, Magnamus's body immediately caught alight, making Maestro jump back in fright. Just like Magnamus to go too far thought Maestro, now what mess had he gotten him in?

Maestro inspected the key and knew he had to fulfil this final wish from his master. He wanted to break down and cry there and then. He trembled and felt his feet might give away at any moment. Then he realised that he had one last thing to do before he could let his grief out…

Anastasia had made it back to the city safely and she was waiting in the Celestial College as Maestro visited the place to give his report.

Every security official saw the wizard coming and instantly opened the way for him without him having to say a word. He had gotten used to strange behaviour like this from the staff in this place.

The way was clear for Maestro as he made his way to the Patriarch's office. Around his neck on a silver chain he wore the key of fate, wondering if it might be in some way cursed, seeing as it was always passed on from dying wizards…

Karl Franz had already taken a report from official mission notes that Tobias had passed to Anastasia before she'd left so he did not feel the need to meet with Maestro. This was for the better as he saw it.

Maestro had come to speak about the issue of why he shouldn't take an apprentice. It was explained to him that every master magister had to take an apprentice, that he would not be able to get out of it.

Maestro got out of it. He had already done his homework on the subject and found that there was one and only one technical loop-hole to allow a wizard to avoid ever taking an apprentice: For him or her to become a master vigilant, a wizard who was specially trained in hunting "black magisters", those wizards who disobeyed the laws and turned against the Empire, or even those who simply ran away to take advantage of their powers for their own ends. Such wizards were a danger to the Empire.

Of course, this information confused the board of officials who heard his request. Their chief concern was that while Maestro had indeed grown powerful travelling in the wilds, a great deal of training was required to become a vigilant, but added to that was the problem that Maestro's own wishes were to be something other than a wizard. The board's concern was that he might end up sympathising and even aiding a rogue magister. A long period of training would be required, to prove himself worth to them.

Maestro was certain that this was the route he wanted to take – well, it wasn't, but it was better than having to have an apprentice on at him in his ear while he tried to design new schematics.

While Maestro had thought he had come to the Patriarch and his staff to explain his request, the truth was, the college officials had wanted to talk to him. They explained that after careful observation of Anastasia's future thread of fate, she was indeed going to play an important role in the ongoing wellbeing of the Old World itself. Now Maestro had heard it from the Patriarch he knew this was going to be bad. This was confirmed when they told him that he was going to have to look after the girl and undertake her thread of vision personally. They told Maestro as he spluttered in response, that while they too could see into the girl's future, Maestro own vision was more keenly attuned to her particular fate than the rest of them. They said that because the matter was so important, they had to have the wizard with most attuned clarity working on the case. They too were not happy that that person happened to be Maestro…

So it came to be, that the girl would be studied by the College, with Maestro leading the research team with his visions.

Tordrad would often visit her, speaking of Kislev. She was amazed at how beautiful the place sounded when he had explained of his life there. He had told her that he'd formally been in the Tsarina's royal bodyguard, but he had been kicked out, removed for attempting to kill his Guard Captain. The man had tried to force himself on Tordrad's younger lady friend. They were only friends, but Tordrad had grown up with the girl and thought of her very much as a sister. There had never been enough proof to bring the man to justice and Tordrad had of course been exiled from his homeland. Now they spoke of returning her to Kislev, to understand what her roots truly meant. They also both realised that this might take a very long time indeed, due to the testing the wizards were doing all the time. Tordrad didn't mind though, he was enjoying delaying that awkward return trip. They both found they enjoyed each other's company a great deal and grew closer as the days and then months went on.

A full Palace investigation into Tobias's whereabouts was under way. The theory was that Tobias had fallen foul upon the roads somewhere or that a dark betrayer had posed as a city messenger that night, based on Dieter's story, for the College had explained that they had sent no such messenger for him.

For weeks, men searched the paths between those woods and the main road that led to Altdorf and no sign was ever found.

Tobias's wife mourned him as dead. She had warned him about going on those roads but he hadn't listened.

Frederick had waited at their usual meeting place but Tobias of course hadn't come. Instead, Frederick was surprised to see Dieter appear. The trainee doctor had explained that he was the last person to see Tobias and that he had gone missing somewhere on the roads. Frederick knew that this probably meant his brother was dead. Dieter looked away so he did not have to see Frederick's pained expression – that he probably would never see his brother again. Dieter explained that Tobias had shown him the note and that is why he knew he would be waiting for him here. He said that it was the least he could do, for his old travelling companion and friend…Dieter forced himself to be understanding and patted the halfling on the back with a serious demeanour. "I am sorry for your loss" he had told him. That was a lie.

Dieter quickly got back to working at his medical clinic, studying the bodies of those who came his way for examination. Sometimes, just sometimes he had body on his slab where the cause of death was apparent without any need of investigation for the watch's sake, for he had been the one to have murdered them. Of course, he had to file some sort of report, for appearances sake…Dieter loved being back in the big city. A city like this could swallow you up and hide all sorts of atrocities.

Dieter had started experimenting on the piece of warpstone he had taken from Tobias. His plans were dark and cruel. He was scheming up an idea involving the chaotic organ that still lived inside the glass container and the warpstone…may Sigmar preserve us all…

As Frederick turned to walk away after Dieter had left his company that day, a voice from the side caught his attention, "Hey, Frederick Wilwart."

The halfling looked around. He'd been discovered! No one should know his identity here. That meant the authorities could arrive at any moment. The black robed person who stood inside the alleyway saw that the halfling was worried and comforted him with, "I am not going to tell anyone you are here. Relax."

Frederick fought back his fear to make his way over to the alleyway where he looked at the man at last. He was tall and slim, his face obscured by the robes covering his head. The halfling asked, "How do you know of my name, stranger?"

The robed man introduced himself, "I am Eiocholus. All of us know your name, because our God has visited upon our dreams and tasked us with a mission. We were told that your brother has been killed and that you have already mingled with his murderer. We are here to serve as justice against that which is unnatural."

Frederick's head began to swirl as if he might pass out but he knew he couldn't afford to let himself do that as he asked, his voice trembling, "Who, who has killed him? Who has done this thing? If you know, I will make you tell me."

The man hissed a laugh in response, "I offer it freely Herr Wilwart. The man who has just left your company, he is your brother's killer."

Frederick's mouth fell open and he quickly tried to sight the small curly-haired man but already he was gone, as if he had wanted to escape from sight fast. Frederick's intuition told him that this stranger though unknown to him was telling the truth. He had learnt in his line of business to trust his instinct before anything, before his five senses even!

Frederick began to growl with growing aggravation, "Why are you helping me in this?"

Eiocholus's smile was all the halfling could see, the lower part of the man's face was the only part no obscured, he replied, "Because we now have a mutual enemy."

It was at about this time Frederick realised that he recognised the man's robes. They were the colours of the Priests of Morr. The halfling asked, "What business does the priesthood of Morr have with this man?"

The priest answered, "He has offended Morr himself. Worse still, this man is a doctor – not simply taking lives but saving them as he sees fit too. Anyone who would rescue a soul from Morr's reach is our enemy. I also hear word that he is friends with a Shallyan priestess. They too cannot be abided, for they insult Morr with their every miracle cure."

Normally Frederick would have heard that these words were the rantings of a crazed zealot, but his grief blinded him to that.

Eiocholus spoke, "We are the Doorkeepers, a sub-sect of Morr's Priesthood. We are more pure in vision than the mainstream and we now selectively open our door to you Herr Wilwart."

With that the man stepped forward and put his hand around the halfling, leading him further down the alley, "I need to introduce you to Ingrid's chosen…"

Epilogue

Maestro had mourned and eventually got on with his work again as time passed. He had discovered that Anastasia's future lay in Kislev, where a great battle against the forces of evil was due to happen. This battle would decide the fate of the world and she had to be present at the time. No more details of that moment in the time thread properly presented themselves, for now.

Sometimes all the pieces of reality are firmly set about in such a way that something unbelievable happens. Maestro was magically aligned with Anastasia's future path again, studying into the events to come and marking anything significant into a book. Much of it was jumbled and would need to be worked out later based on his writings. All of this of course held him up from working on his own book of daemon-related protection guidelines, but there was nothing that could be done about that. This was a most pressing business the College had set him upon.

One such day as Maestro gazed through the focusing point, a telescope turned backwards. He reasoned that by having the lens show the world of here and now from a great distance away, he could concentrate his mind on what was closer than that, a place his eyes naturally tried to fixate. This was actually working though, helping him to see what should not be seen. On this day though a great but expected (amongst his College) thing happened in the cosmos. The moons in the sky above appeared to collide! Morrslieb eclipsed Mannslieb. It was considered a terrible omen upon the world, when the powers of chaos and evil were at their strongest, when the chaos moon was dominant and its balancing brother was nowhere to be seen. Maestro had forgotten that tonight was the start of Hexensnacht. A cursed time indeed. But if chaos was powerful now, all magic came from the realms of chaos and hence there was a sudden wave of aethyric flowing into the world, far stronger than was normal. This also coincided with one of the rare eldritch maelstrom's that would glide over the old world – a storm of magic. At that very moment in time, one such fel storm surged through the magical pathways between the College and battlefield far away, where a blonde haired heroic human called Felix Jaeger and an orange crested dwarf named Gotrek Gurnisson stared in amazement as thousands of once dead bodies about them rose to walk again, in a mass magical spell of re-animation that caused the winds of magic to explode outwards in all directions. This surge of combined events had sudden drastic effects upon magical spellcasters everywhere. Only two wizards however were casting magical spells at the exact moment of the magical storm's apex. One of the spell casters was a bright wizard, fighting for his life inside a forest against dark elves who caught up to him in their hundreds. This wizard had decided to go down fighting and cast a simple fireball, aimed for their leader. At the moment of the storm's apex, his spell met a critical success the like of which had never been seen before in the old world's recorded history. A simple fireball instead came out as a massive plume of flame so wide that it could have decimated an army. As it was, it burned every dark elf pursuer to a crisp as well as much of the forest too. The wizard stared at his hands in disbelief!

One other wizard had been casting at that time too, one Maestro Rophel Illefescion. His magic had been a concentrated seer spell, to divine the future. At that moment in time, his spellcasting was met with a critical success and as he peered into a future strand before him, it felt as if the future vision itself became clearer than it ever had before. The wallpaper in his room unstuck itself, folding upwards from aethyric pressure, the furniture rattled, the nearby animals ran to escape, many of the breaks in the building shook themselves loose, as did the door from its hinges and the fireplace from the wall. As Maestro stared though, he was amazed at what he saw, as if he was looking at the vision with greater clarity than he had ever known. At that moment though, he realised he had looked too deep, gone too far, saw the future too clearly and wholly, for the future, at that moment in time, decided to stare back at him!

Suddenly, with a cracking of lightning that came through the roof, piercing three floors to reach him, Maestro appeared to disintegrate from its contact.

He opened his eyes again, believing he was dead from the sudden pain that jolted his body. Then he realised that he was very much alive and the vision he had seen was now even clearer still. In fact, his vision of the cold snowy land of Kislev after its destruction and the Tsarina's fall and the consequential sacking of Altdorf was so real that he began to shiver. A snow flake dropped onto his nose. Then another glided down past his face, as his eyeball followed its descent all the way to the floor that was a carpet of white…he wasn't in the College anymore…he was inside the vision, no wait, he realised, he was outside of the vision! He was in a place he shouldn't be. He had travelled through time. His bones told him that the place he stood was wrong, that everything was out of sorts.

He looked around him but no element of the room he had been standing in remained. His legs and hands were shaking. He could not tell if it was from the shock or the cold. Perhaps it was both he wondered. He quickly clutched for the key to check that it was still around his neck. Yes, the key had made it too. At least he had that on him, he reassured himself.

There were no words he could think of though, to describe the fear inside him at this his darkest moment. He could only say one word, "Gosh".

He did not have Tordrad to protect him. He had no one. He wondered if anyone in the Empire was even alive now. Stranger still was the overwhelming urgency he felt in his stomach, as if he was falling yet his body wasn't. Something in him knew he was wrongly placed in the natural order of things, and it felt like the natural order might soon try to hiccup him out of this place to another. He only hoped that it would send him home, "Hah, fat chance of that I suspect" he said aloud, "Fate always has me cleaning up its dirty mess. Well it looks like I'm up to my neck in it this time, mucking out its latrine."

Maestro wandered on through the snow, with his teeth chattering. He decided he might as well go have a look at how bad things are…and that is what he did…

…The End?


End file.
